


What Your Heart Can Bear Home

by Palabun



Series: Tomorrow and Tomorrow [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A Little Post Patch Sad But Not Too Much, Angst, Body Horror, Childhood Memories, Fluff, M/M, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Pre-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Pre-Shadowbringers Exarch Recollection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palabun/pseuds/Palabun
Summary: For the Warrior of Light it's hard to find a place to call home. But wherever they may rest their weary head, they will always bring with them what their heart can bear.Spoilers for everything in 5.3! Also contains extensive pre-ShB headcanon from G'raha's POV for the so inclined :)
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Tomorrow and Tomorrow [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564246
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57





	1. Home - Norvrandt

**Author's Note:**

> What awaits R'yhuven and G'raha in the wide world available to them? A whole lot of not only places, but people as well. I have no planned end for this so far - I'll let them decide where they'd like to go and how they get there :)

"Raha…we're home."

No voice replied, though technically the two men waited together at the threshold of their Crystarium house. Aether enthusiastically radiated from the crystal securely within R'yhuven's grasp in silent acknowledgment.

The past few days' events had humbled R'yhuven greatly despite his trying to hide it. His feelings remained an open yet painless wound after all that had transpired. Found truths always lanced deep, personal truths in particular. Having experienced so much laid bare so quickly - the true nature of Elidibus, G'raha's will to live for himself, and…

_And this…_

Warm and gentle as the noonday sun, an orange stone etched in a motif of the same shimmered in R'yhuven's other hand. He crossed into the living room with only the sounds of his breathing for company, pressing both vessels to his forehead as if they could quell the storm in his heart.

Having experienced so much laid bare so quickly, R'yhuven was exhausted. The wound sluggishly bled old, stagnant blood that had served its purpose, gradually yielding to fresh, vibrant red. In the transition period he could only attempt to keep the site clean while keeping his strength up to aid the healing process.

Moonlight lit R'yhuven's trek to the bedroom. Aether light joined it once he arrived, the crystalbloom shining as always from its picture box on the vanity. R'yhuven placed the two crystals alongside the elegant flower, between the recording of his performance he had given to G'raha weeks prior and the felt dolls of the Warrior of Darkness and the Crystal Exarch gifted them by the Exarch's largest fan, Elliwise. "Here. You can rest while I clean up. You've had a long couple days of travel after all!"

A content air settled over G'raha's spirit vessel. R'yhuven's fingers stroked its contours until he drew a deep breath, reluctantly pulling away. There was cleaning to be done.

\--

First things first, the vanity. Its pristine marble surface, always polished to a shine on days R'yhuven waited for G'raha to come home, held mostly accessories and makeup for G'raha's wedding dress. Each piece sparked fond memories as it returned to the box from which it came. There was no picking a favorite - in R'yhuven's mind's eye G'raha spun round in laughter, a bouquet of crystalbloom in hand, clung to his neck dreamily, their feet pressed together in a slow dance, offered himself in pure trust as a canvas for R'yhuven's desires, his eyesight casually turned off to ensure his surprise. A wistful smile touched R'yhuven's face as he held the small glass jar of pink lip paint aloft, conjuring a variety of imagery from its careful application on perfect lips to the deeds those painted temptations performed.

In short order the last item joined the boxes full of delicate lace in R'yhuven's storage. All that remained on the vanity were the items supporting the crystals. He fully intended on bringing the dolls and recording in the morning, but knowing the crystalbloom had to remain pained R'yhuven slightly despite its counterparts on the Source.

He kept his head held high for his next task, emptying the wardrobe. Thankfully R'yhuven could let his thoughts wander during the repetitive task of pulling clothes from hangers, folding, and stowing them. Making good on his promise to take G'raha's measurements and have clothes tailored had produced more than the wedding dress. Most were casual shirts meant to let the Crystal Exarch relax after long days trapped in robes and responsibilities. _And relax OUT of them too!_ He grinned to himself. G'raha's outfits formed one pile, then his another as he put it all away.

"Now then!" R'yhuven clapped his hands free of imaginary dust. "I'm off to pack up the rest of the house. I promise not to be gone too long Raha."

\--

One step, two steps, three, and so on. His feet knew the necessary motions to carry him to his destination, but R'yhuven's heart remained in the bedroom. The living room held too much significance, leading him to head through the kitchen to the backyard. Four trees from the Source, each planted after he tossed them at his lover during playful couples' spats, piled their leaves high and filled R'yhuven's nose with a scent he'd come to look forward to on the rare occasions they cooked outside. Breathing slowly for a moment of calm, he carried their cooking implements into the kitchen and stowed them in the lower cabinets.

Thinking about clearing the rest of the cabinets led to sitting hard at the kitchen table, however. Sentimentality was quickly overtaking R'yhuven's ability to maintain his cheerful facade. _At least Raha can't see me, but what do I do? I don't want to be alone…who could I ask to help?_

One being sprang to mind. "O my most wonderful and magnanimous of bran-"

Before he could finish Feo Ul appeared on the table. "Thoughtless, careless sapling!"

The scolding was long overdue. His ears wilted, R'yhuven could only nod in agreement. "You saved me yet again and I hardly thanked you for it."

"What? No!"

In a flurry of small chimes the pixie king flew to R'yhuven's face angrily, punching at the air. "You waited for your brilliant light to grow so dim before you called out for your beautiful branch! I waited and waited while you worked!"

"But you DID call out to me as I so hoped!" They continued, smiling, hands clasped, and all past transgressions forgotten in the pixie way. "What do you desire, my adorable sapling? You need but ask and I would pluck the moon from the sky to restore your full luster." Feo Ul's voice exuded a tenderness R'yhuven didn't feel he deserved, as he never did around them. To his surprise he swore he felt the smallest of kisses to his forehead, followed by small hands pressed there as if to complement his earlier action. "Is it to smooth the wrinkles sure to mar your lovely brow?"

That warranted a weak chuckle. "Maybe later. For now…"

R'yhuven took in the kitchen and its familiar objects with a sigh. "I can't stand to see everything stripped away. Yet I also can't imagine being among it all if he can't be with me. This should be a night of celebration…but I-"

Laden by emotions his voice wavered, then broke. _But I can't let go of what we had, in this place. If his body rejects this soul, this will be all I have left of the Crystal Exarch!_

Unbidden tears streamed down R'yhuven's cheeks, past Feo Ul to wet the table upon which he and G'raha had shared countless home cooked meals courtesy of the Exarch's expert hand. How many times had R'yhuven caught the reserved ruler humming, or even singing, from happiness as he cooked? How many candlelit dinners had R'yhuven enjoyed at G'raha's feet from his special pillow, a gift found within the chambers of the Tower specially chosen to cater to R'yhuven's hidden desire?

"Knowing it is the way of mortals to incessantly dwell on the past never ceases to make you less infuriating!"

For having such small hands being flicked in the head by Feo Ul hurt an unexpected amount. As R'yhuven reeled, sniffling for two reasons now, they waved a multicolored handkerchief into existence that he took sheepishly. "The fae also love their shiny trinkets my sapling. We cherish and care for them well. But when we chose to pass them to another, or if they break, we do not mourn for longer than it takes to bite an apple. Do you know why?"

A new handkerchief took the place of the thoroughly used one without Feo Ul skipping a beat. "Because the memories we have of the times we spent with it will ever endure. And if it can bring joy to another why not let it? You may not be able to let go as easily as we fae, but your memories will also endure. You _have_ promised to remember if the worst happens to my dear friend, have you not?"

"I…I have…" R'yhuven pulled himself together enough to nod firmly, though his voice remained a whisper. "'I want you to know that, no matter what happens, no matter what you become, I'll always be beside you.'"

As he and the Exarch stood together in the throne room transferring G'raha's soul into his vessel at last, he had whispered those words as final comfort to the man who had given himself and every world so much as a reminder of his promise from another lifetime. "Even if only I keep these memories I'll always carry their weight."

"Then, foolish and thoughtless sapling." Feo Ul casually sat on R'yhuven's hand, holding it in place and preventing him from further wiping. "Shed no more tears, for you have had your answer all along. The meaning of everything here was pressed upon you long ago. You need only carry that which your heart can bear."

R'yhuven bolted from his chair and ran for the bathroom, leaving Feo Ul hanging in place. "Wait, wait!"

He heard them giving chase, but all R'yhuven could focus on was how much time he'd already lost. _What my heart can bear…why do I always say things to him with no thought to their actual meaning?? I truly am every bit the fool everyone calls me!_

When several voices agreed with him he took it in stride for once. Laughing merrily, he pulled towels, soap, and oil from around the room and carefully stacked them as Feo Ul flew through the door. "Did you not hear me at all?!"

"I did!" The stack disappeared into R'yhuven's bags. Their scent lingered in the air, as did the echoes of the past. He no longer worried the edges of his open wound lamenting the way it had looked before, however. "But he will have gone two _years_ without a bath. So I plan on reminding him how important cleanliness is right away before he gets any ideas like-" he saucily placed a hand on his hip, "'See, I went years without bathing, it isn't a necessary function' or something like that!"

Feo Ul doubled over in laughter at R'yhuven's G'raha impression. "Bwa ha ha!! Now THAT is a burden you would gladly take on!"

\--

They eventually cleared the room of everything except the bare minimum needed for R'yhuven to use it. Exhaustion from recent events finally settled into his weary bones and beckoned him to bed. "I suppose I should head to sleep soon. But before that…"

"Yes?" Eagerness filled Feo Ul's bright gaze.

R'yhuven extended a hand to his ever-loyal pixie friend. They lit upon it immediately, swaying back and forth like a child who knew candy awaited them once their parents' requisite speech beforehand ended. "I do not need the moon. It does more good in the sky lighting the way of everyone fighting tirelessly to protect Norvrandt."

He affectionately poked one of Feo Ul's cheeks, which frustratedly puffed beneath his finger. "I have two _other_ favors to ask of you, if you're up to it."

"Two?"

They took flight in a flurry of wings and pixie dust. "TWO??" Once again, accompanied by a loop through the air that left them barely able to hover in place in excitement. "O happy day! My adorable sapling has double the wishes for me! What are they that I might grant them straight away? Hurry, hurry!"

"Haha!" R'yhuven couldn't help himself. "First, I would like for someone to guard my trinkets since Raha can't anymore."

Images of the flowers G'raha had diligently cared for since gifting R'yhuven the house came to mind. The thought of them dying in the Exarch's absence prevented him from setting foot in the living room, but that wasn't all. "And I don't mean just this house, but _everything_ that I hold dear here."

"Yhuven..."

Settling down, Feo Ul humbly returned to their perch. They placed both hands over their heart, bowing their head. "I swear to you, on the honor of the name Titania: all that you hold dear will be the same for every pixie of Il Mheg, now and forevermore. Should _anything_ threaten what timelessly belongs to you, the entirety of my subjects shall rise up in their defense and fight to protect them to their last."

"Oh…" Their reaction was far more than R'yhuven expected. He had envisioned Feo Ul taking up the watering and occasionally using the crystallized form of the Exarch as a perch from which to mischievously tease pilgrims to the site of his final rest. G'raha always considered his crystalline body another tool for aiding R'yhuven, and for that seeing it left behind caused little distress. But it had also been given to him, completed by him, molded by him, and he wouldn't see it defiled. Knowing Feo Ul felt just as strongly lightened his heart's burden.

Tapping on R'yhuven's palm brought him back to reality. "The second, my sapling?"

"Right." Inhaling deep of the sandalwood and rose scent permeating the bathroom, specially created only for G'raha courtesy of the same perfumer responsible for R'yhuven's lilac and honeysuckle perfume, set R'yhuven's tail to slowly waving. "If things go poorly tonight may be the last the Raha here exists. Could you make it so we can…" he quickly rubbed his eyes clear with his free hand, "…spend it together, in our dreams?"

Months of G'raha moving him around the Crystarium without warning failed to prepare R'yhuven for suddenly appearing in his bed fully undressed. "Feo Ul?"

"Shh…"

R'yhuven's eyes grew heavy. Reaching out blindly to get comfortable in the few seconds he had as promised turned up the blankets, which he pulled over himself quickly, and something unexpectedly warm. His inner feline took to it happily, and just before dropping off for good R'yhuven rolled belly up, purring away contently to the sound of light, comforting snores.


	2. Lyhe Mheg - Oren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have to make sure we take the Exarch EVERYWHERE, right? What better place to spend their last night on the First than in the candied world of Lyhe Mheg, where the pixies will make sure absolutely nothing goes wrong :)

When he asked for a dream R'yhuven imagined them spending the time at their house. But he'd asked a pixie - the king of pixies, but a pixie all the same - for a favor. So he couldn't stop from laughing as the vibrantly candied construction of Lyhe Mheg came into view instead. As the Warrior of Light and a general busybody R'yhuven was ever ready to aid someone in need, and he held a particular fondness for the mischievous denizens of Il Mheg thanks to his own feline predilections. What started as a plea to save Tyr Beq's world of dreams soon led to freeing An Lad from the vestiges of the previous Titania's memories, and he now held the two pixies, as well as their porxie companion Ezel Il, as treasured friends.

"Yhuven!"

Two voices called for him. The closer one would always be first in his heart no matter how many bonds he forged, drawing R'yhuven's attention down to the cheerful crimson gaze lovingly awaiting him first. G'raha, wearing the body of the Crystal Exarch before he began forging the soul vessels, stared unblinkingly into R'yhuven's eyes in the universal feline sign of affection. There were no robes for him in the dream world, however, but an outfit R'yhuven had once contemplated for the younger G'raha that must have been lifted from his imagination.

If wearing pajama shorts and a dark blue buttoned shirt covered in a tiny chocobo chick pattern bothered G'raha he didn't let it show. "Yhuven! This is unexpected but thrilling!" He exclaimed with a light bounce that shook his happily flicking ears to and fro. Seeing him so full of life under his circumstances bolstered R'yhuven's own resolve towards the day ahead. G'raha nudged his head against the Bard's side, bringing attention to how R'yhuven wore a matching outfit except in his favorite shade of dark green and unbuttoned, wove their fingers together, and twined his tail about R'yhuven's affectionately. "This must be Lyhe Mheg, correct? You tried to bring me once before but my connection to the Crystal Tower prevented it. I am full glad I can be here now."

"So are we!"

The owner of the other voice flew over to greet them accompanied by another. "Tyr Beq, An Lad!"

Tyr Beq the Weaver, leader of the Dreamspinners and steward of Lyhe Mheg, bowed respectfully before them. "I've been so embarrassed ever since that happened, so you'd better believe I jumped at the chance to make it right! I was surprised the king chose us to take care of you tonight though…we won't let you down. Right An Lad?"

Though naturally more subdued than most pixies, An Lad radiated visible joy. "The king may have ordered us to make you happy or else all of Il Mheg will get to play Hide and Seek with our dismembered limbs-"

R'yhuven and G'raha staggered. They knew their mutual friend's wrath ran as deep as their love.

"-but I would have anyway. After all you've done for me, and the whole world, this is the least I can do to repay you."

They waved a hand past R'yhuven. Five bright lights leapt from his chest to surround the Miqo'te pair in colorful swirls that took human forms he immediately recognized. From how G'raha's tail eagerly pulled left and right R'yhuven knew he did as well and was equally excited. "Everyone!" G'raha shouted and waved.

"Pretty Raha!!"

Ilverna, R'yhuven's always enthusiastic red-skinned Hyuran Red Mage reflection, ran to meet them. His other four partners in crime followed suit, leaving R'yhuven to watch the scene from the side, though not jealously. G'raha had been the one to first summon his reflections from other Shards during R'yhuven's desperate hour of need in the Tempest. Since then five of them had fallen in love with the enigmatic researcher-turned-ruler through his and R'yhuven's relationship, sharing in their keeper's triumphs while soundly chastising him for his shortcomings. Many had lost their loved ones in some way by becoming the Warrior of Light, and fought hard to prevent R'yhuven from doing the same by his own hand.

Their pixie-granted outfits made R'yhuven snort. Ilverna and Luzen, an ebon-skinned female Viera and fellow Paladin, both wore similar pajamas to R'yhuven's and G'raha's. Hvil, the elderly, pale-skinned Miqo'te White Mage stripped of their physical senses, wore pajama pants and a shirt. In what could only be pure pixie impishness, or perhaps Miqo'te impishness if R'yhuven wanted to be honest with himself, their typical colorful blindfold was replaced by a sleep mask embroidered with beaver faces over the eyes. Would pointing it out ruin the fun? R'yhuven decided not to answer that question.

His true interest lay in what the last two wound up wearing. Maer, the tall, midnight skinned and scaled Au Ra Astrologian, and Oren, the tan-skinned Elezen Summoner, were notorious for always being naked, although Oren swore his body-covering tattoos counted as being dressed to everyone's dismay. Upon seeing them R'yhuven was fully convinced An Lad had worked a bit _too_ hard to make the Miqo'te happy - he had to hold in a purr watching the air-light fabric wrapped around their waists dance at the edge of indecency with every leg motion or gust of wind. A single moogle-shaped button valiantly secured the fragile arrangements, bringing to mind evil thoughts about what sounds they made when taken off.

"Is everything to your liking?" An Lad sat on R'yhuven's shoulder and asked nervously.

"Oh, definitely." The reply came to R'yhuven easily as he rubbed his hands together to banish his not-so-idle thoughts. "Everyone is just how I would imagine them. Thank you An Lad!"

Casually, he strolled into the midst of G'raha's adoring public to reclaim his lover for the evening. "Thanks for coming to my aid again everyone. But your reward is the scenery, not him. There's plenty to do elsewhere."

"All the children are gone for the night too!" Tyr Beq added, An Lad leaving R'yhuven to join them. "So the whole of Lyhe Mheg is yours!"

The five otherworldly Warriors of Light complained good-naturedly while they dispersed, waving goodbye to G'raha along the way. R'yhuven gathered G'raha in his arms for a quiet moment before they left themselves. "I hope you don't think I was too harsh on them."

"We couldn't help but notice your admiration so no, not that I would mind regardless." G'raha shook lightly in laughter as R'yhuven's cheeks reddened. "There's no other place I would rather be right now than in your possession. Shall we away Yhuven?"

They parted just far enough to take the other's hand, crystalline right to shield-bearing left, and without a word between them ran down the hill together as fast as their legs could carry them.

\--

R'yhuven had a mind to see G'raha's surprise at everything being edible but he already seemed to have a plan. When he tried to stop on the nearby platform of macaron cushions G'raha dragged him forward at full speed, tripping him briefly. G'raha showed no signs of stopping…at least not until they reached the pavilion. There their hands finally separated just in time for the eager Miqo'te to wholeheartedly fling himself into the closest mound of whipped cream pretending to be a decoration at the pavilion's edge.

"Ish real!" Came a revelation muffled by the pillowy topping. All R'yhuven could do was stare in shock at the ridiculous sight of the man many once knew as the Crystal Exarch reduced to a pair of pajama-clad legs sticking out of a human-sized pile of cream. On a different day he would have done something untoward in taking advantage of the situation. Instead he chose to walk around to the other side and confirm that yes, there was a head attached to those legs. And it was happily eating the whipped cream G'raha shoveled into his mouth without a care in the world. "Really good!"

A shadow fell over them from the pavilion's railing. "The confections here will taste of whatever you desire them to."

Oren flipped his dark purple hair over a shoulder, the sounds of wooden combs interspersed throughout gently clinking together accenting his light chuckle. Leaning on his elbows, the Elezen watched G'raha fondly before taking up a book from the bench beside him and waving it at R'yhuven. "How can you read at a time like this Oren?"

"There is no better time my friend!" The researcher's dark blue eyes glittered with an ambition R'yhuven knew well from G'raha. "The pixies here welcome children from across Norvrandt. As such they're very well-versed in a variety of desserts. And no Arcanist can call themselves a master without being intimate with the great collection of formulas that is baking. Perhaps I might assist you in presenting him with a cake from your own hands one day, if you ask nicely."

"Oren…" His dedication lightened R'yhuven's heart. "Just double check their recipes for any strange ingredients!"

To their side G'raha was still content to keep obliviously drowning in the never-ending pile of whipped cream. Not helping at all R'yhuven broke off a piece of nearby pirouette, chocolate and all, and offered it to the dessert maw. "Raha, you know there's more to see here right?"

"But why leave when-" G'raha stopped to bite into the pirouette, ears shooting straight up joyfully, "-I can shtay here wish all thish?"

"Did transferring him to the spirit vessel do something to his personality?" R'yhuven whispered to Oren.

The Elezen shook his head. "He's dreaming. We have experience with keeping our wits about us in dreamlike states. Normally I think he would as well, but I don't believe he's had a single naturally-occurring dream since merging with the Crystal Tower. With this being his first in a hundred years it's likely making him more loopy than normal."

"I didn't think…oh no…" Nothing of the sort had occurred to R'yhuven before making his request. "Now what? Well...I guess I'm fine with stuffing him full of sugar all night if it's what he wants. If he grew up eating _that_ bread regularly he deserves it!"

Just thinking about the horrid clash of flavors his taste buds endured after nibbling a piece of Archon bread was enough to make R'yhuven stick his tongue out partially. He pulled it back in, however, as a flash preceded two lollipops replacing Oren's book. "Try these instead." Oren cleared his throat and directed his voice towards G'raha. "They should taste like lemon ca-"

"Haa-om!"

Lightning quick G'raha erupted from his habitat completely clean, hopped onto the fence underneath the railing, and sucked the entire top of one lollipop into his mouth. A dreamy air surrounded him as he peacefully, yet suggestively, suckled the candy for all it was worth, ears wiggling. Intermingled among the much-lewder-than-R'yhuven-was-prepared-to-handle sounds were occasional, barely discernable murmurs of "delicious lemon" and "feed me another forkful Yhuven."

"My work here is done." Oren smugly placed the occupied lollipop's stick in R'yhuven's hand, dislodging the Exarch from the fence in the process, then tucked the free one into R'yhuven's back pocket. "Use them to guide him around. Hopefully something else will catch his attention before he gets through both."

"R…right…"

R'yhuven stepped forward. G'raha matched him. Trying not to grin he tugged on the lollipop to see the reaction. "Rrrrrr…"

An angry growl vibrated the stick. Another tug angered G'raha enough for him to mutter something longer. Around the lollipop R'yhuven didn't catch much, but one word stuck out enough that he and Oren traded disbelieving glances while blushing.

Punishment.

"What kind of dream is he having??"

Oren disappeared back to his bench with a wave of his hand. "Good luck Yhuven."


	3. Lyhe Mheg - Luzen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A light turned on in R'yhuven's head. He cautiously released the lollipop and endured the tiny whimper that followed. It turned to a happy gasp when R'yhuven knelt in the grass, offering up his back for transportation. G'raha wasted no time climbing aboard, his arms securing around R'yhuven's neck for stability of both him and his treat. Unfortunately, that meant Suggestive Lollipop Theater was playing out directly in R'yhuven's ear but, he had enough control to not react inappropriately and get them all kicked out. "Let's cross the leaves together hmm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All 2 people who ever thought about the Exarch using playground equipment - this is for you :)

Now that R'yhuven had G'raha's leash firmly in hand he started toward the rest of Lyhe Mheg to continue their strange evening. Fortunately the lemon cake lollipop dissuaded G'raha from trying to snack on any more decorations as they passed another platform full of sweets. R'yhuven aimed them towards the nearby bridge, hoping to head uphill for the view, to have a multicolored glint of light distract his charge along the way. "Wash that?" G'raha asked, tugging in the opposite direction. "Leafsh? I wansh to crosh the leafsh!"

 _Damn it, I was hoping he wouldn't see those._ Not only was the thought of the potential carnage that might ensue when letting go so G'raha could cross not appealing, but R'yhuven worried he might be too out of it to cross at all and ruin his trip by falling into the river. "If we walk across the bridge here we can cross without falling."

"Nnhh…"

G'raha stopped pulling to whine. Turning around proved R'yhuven's undoing, as G'raha's tear-filled eyes, lowered ears, and drooping tail stabbed daggers into him. "But I want to crosh the leafsh wish Yhuven…"

A light turned on in R'yhuven's head. He cautiously released the lollipop and endured the tiny whimper that followed. It turned to a happy gasp when R'yhuven knelt in the grass, offering up his back for transportation. G'raha wasted no time climbing aboard, his arms securing around R'yhuven's neck for stability of both him and his treat. Unfortunately, that meant Suggestive Lollipop Theater was playing out directly in R'yhuven's ear but, he had enough control to not react inappropriately and get them all kicked out. "Let's cross the leaves together hmm?"

Crimson fur wound about R'yhuven's waist, the tip of G'raha's tail dancing in delight. "Yesh!"

Through his many visits to Lyhe Mheg R'yhuven had earned a specialty in crossing the stained glass leaves spanning the river and climbing up to the lookout tower on the other side. Carrying G'raha while he did so was no effort, made G'raha happy, and ensured there were no accidents, which were all perfect in R'yhuven's book. He made out excited giggling with each leap made from leaf to leaf, moving higher until they came to the crossroads between heading to the tower or returning to the ground. R'yhuven wasn't sure which way he wanted to go.

"Oi, Boss!"

Peach-furred ears and hair dropped into R'yhuven and G'raha's view from above. Luzen hung upside-down off the leaf above them, waving enthusiastically. "You're headed to the spinner aren't you?"

That didn't strike R'yhuven as a true question. She winked her hazel eyes faux innocently, rolling over to offer her arms for assistance. "We're still connected here you know? And I've heard there's a special person looking to have fun tonight!"

"Hi Lushen! I am!" G'raha glanced towards the sphere of bars waiting for riders to climb inside not far from them. "Are you coming too?"

One of Luzen's ears quirked forward in gentle, motherly chastisement. "Why of course I am! Come on Yhuven, we don't have all night!"

"Yes ma'am!" R'yhuven decided to make a show of it. Of all his fragments he and Luzen were the closest - the to-the-point Viera had been with R'yhuven since Carteneau, and took his place as the Warrior of Light for almost a year. Thus they needed no communication at all in coordinating a grand display for the man of the hour, R'yhuven dramatically jumping to Luzen's arms and hanging there while she adjusted to throw them to the next leaf down. She flung the pair with enough force that R'yhuven flipped through the air, G'raha and all, landed on the leaf on one foot, and quickly hopped the remaining steps down onto the grass. Seconds later Luzen joined them, springing from her perch to the ground in her own fancy flip topped off in a bow. "Hmph, showoff!"

They all shared a laugh as R'yhuven and Luzen raced to the spinner. The secure hold R'yhuven had on him emboldened G'raha to throw his hands in the air and cheer them on, the small puddle of drool that formed on R'yhuven's shoulder thanks to the lollipop proving a cute touch he secretly loved.

\--

Between Viera and Miqo'te agility the race ended in a tie. Luzen waited outside the bars bouncing lightly on her feet, giving R'yhuven time to climb inside and let G'raha down. "You'll want to hold on!" R'yhuven bade his charge, guiding him to the circular handhold at the center of the sphere.

"I don't undershtand." G'raha pouted at Luzen as if she were about to leave, the lollipop stick perfectly yet childishly accenting his lips, but grasped the rounded handle alongside R'yhuven obediently. "I shought she wash joining ush?"

"Just wait." R'yhuven winked at him. He covered G'raha's closest hand with his own for extra security, gripping it firmly as the spinner started to shift. On the outside Luzen calmly turned them, walking slowly so G'raha could get used to the motion. G'raha's eyes widened, hands tightening around the metal ring in the universal sign given by every child suddenly realizing the immense potential of riding in a large, likely unsafe, free-spinning metal cage.

"Aaaand - go!!"

The Miqo'te flew off their feet as Luzen broke out in a run, the Viera having picked up on G'raha's mood and wasted no time cranking the speed all the way up. Peach ears and cackling streamed behind her while the metal creaked and whirred ominously, spinning its contents like loose pieces of candy. Visions of G'raha painted across the entirety of Lyhe Mheg as his final memory screamed through R'yhuven's mind, and once it crawled up from his stomach, his voice. "LUZEN SLOW THE HELLS DOWN…AHH!!"

"Okay!"

She did indeed stop spinning them, but only to join in by hopping onto the outside of the bars. R'yhuven wanted to curse her out...as soon as everything wasn't blurry. "Don't look sho mad Yhuven! Your fash will get shtuck!"

Somehow managing to keep his pacifier safe despite the air roaring past threatening to rip it away, G'raha grinned at R'yhuven so hard his eyes crinkled shut. "Thish ish fun!! And you're here!"

So much trust burned brightly in G'raha's eyes thanks to R'yhuven's presence he lost the will to protest. _The point IS for him to enjoy himself. And it isn't like we can die here. Then I guess…_

There was nothing for it but to dive right in. "It is isn't it! Woo!!"

Two matching cheers joined R'yhuven's. For a few more seconds the spinner flung the Miqo'te hard enough they remained parallel to the floor. Though Luzen loudly enjoyed herself alongside them, every drop of G'raha's uninhibited elation belonged to R'yhuven and R'yhuven alone - pure and sweet, just as he always carried himself in the precious moments he had been free from his troubles as Exarch during their time together. How could R'yhuven meet him with anything less?

They'd both laughed themselves breathless and silly by the time the spinner slowed to where they could touch the floor again. Luzen held her grip until it came close to stopping, then used the remaining light rotation to roll her a short way through the grass when she let go. "Oooh…letsh try that too…"

A hiccup around a lemon lollipop, the pad of stumbling feet against metal, a swift _voosh_ of G'raha faceplanting into the grass. R'yhuven heard it all, yet could do little to help until his head quit its own spinner. It didn't seem to be in a hurry to do so, however, and R'yhuven eventually also staggered from among the bars to plop unceremoniously next to his partner in centrifugal crimes. "Rahaaaaa…we didn't make it…haha…"

Pant-clad legs, between which white fur danced back and forth in amused annoyance, loomed over the two men. "Hey Hvil!" Winded but cheerful, R'yhuven waved upward slowly. Unexpectedly, his stomach lurched and his eyes crossed with the motion. "Oh ugh…hurk…"

G'raha managed rolling onto his back to the same nauseated tune. His arms and legs landed atop R'yhuven like wet noodles, inciting another round of giggling topped off by regretful groans. The lollipop was nowhere to be found. "You three," Hvil started, including Luzen in what R'yhuven imagined had to be their smug gaze, "are ridiculous!"

"I'm not the one with beavers for eyes." Luzen pushed herself up on her arms, maneuvering into a sitting position with her nose wrinkled despondently. "But everyone thinks I'm the 'unfun mom' around here so I had to do something. I can be fun damn it!"

She attempted shaking her fist at him, but became another voice in R'yhuven and G'raha's performance instead. Their tormentor sighed dramatically, kneeling down, and cast a healing spell on them all. "I never said being ridiculous was _bad_ you know."

Hvil smoothly transitioned from signing to pulling off their mask, exposing the constellation-dotted grey of their eyes to Lyhe Mheg's eternal daylight. They casually dangled the beaver-embroidered cloth before G'raha, attracting his attention in the instinctive way known to every descendant of wild cats, then tucked the mask into their waistband. "What do you say Raha - would you like to see if you can snatch _this_ prize from an old, blind Miqo'te?"

Their feigned helplessness amused R'yhuven to no end. Hvil might have lost most of their physical senses, but they had regained them and more through developing their aetheric ones. And in a place such as Lyhe Mheg they held a distinct advantage over those without similar talents.

Not that G'raha had the mind to worry about anything of that nature. He scrambled to sit on all fours, bottom plunked onto the ground, tail freed from R'yhuven's wagging eagerly. "I do!"

He tried to pounce Hvil, earning nothing but a mouthful of grass as they regained their footing, pivoting away gracefully so the mask fluttered just right to keep G'raha's eye. "Oh, so sorry Raha. I wasn't aware you were trying." They signed mischievously.

The scholar primed himself for another pounce, spitting out leaves and dirt with a roguish smirk. "Why you!"

R'yhuven and Luzen sat together to watch the show. Hvil kept one step ahead of G'raha, effortlessly evading every attempt on his prize. G'raha wouldn't be discouraged, however, springing energetically after them each time and laughing whenever he missed. After a few he turned to R'yhuven to pout. "Yhuven, you have to come help me - I want beaver eyes!"

"How could I ever deny you _beaver eyes_?" Dusting off his legs, R'yhuven stretched and made to join in the fun. "Coming Luzen?"

"These old bones are going to rest right here, thank you." She winked at him - in Viera years they were close to the same age. "I can't keep up with you catty types."

"Your loss!" Sticking his tongue out at her but appreciating the opportunity for a full Miqo'te romp, R'yhuven leapt into the middle of the fray. "Let's get them Raha!"


	4. Lyhe Mheg - Hvil and Maer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sounded so sincere, but this time R'yhuven couldn't keep his composure to match at the sight of dual frowning beavers embracing G'raha's face, their tiny embroidered feet pointed towards his forehead. "You look…" he wheezed in a futile attempt to fill his lungs and think up a working description, "…splendid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beaver eyes? Beaver eyes :)

Hvil led their merry chase uphill on all fours themself, tail darting to-and-fro to show how they too enjoyed the romp. Their pursuers tried every trick they had to snatch the coveted mask - rolling, leaping, swatting, even lunging for Hvil's legs to trip them - but they were elusive as the plains winds of R'yhuven's homeland. What started out as frolicking for the sake of appeasing G'raha turned into a full-on pursuit what sent R'yhuven's blood singing the thrill of the hunt, eager to catch his prey and show his prowess.

Though barely possessed of his already subdued feline urges since merging with the Crystal Tower, G'raha also kept pace with a similar wild thrill to his upright ears and wide eyes. Oren's hypothesis proved accurate as Hvil made an adequate enough distraction G'raha passed another whipped cream and pirouette-covered pavilion without the slightest blink in its direction, nor that of several random cookies and other treats strewn about. Like on the leaves and in the spinner, he constantly confirmed the pair remained at each other's side, G'raha's attention half on his task, half casting loving glances R'yhuven's way,

Further and further they wound up the verdant hill in a flurry of fur and excitement until, in a feat that impressed R'yhuven highly, Hvil coiled and sprang a large distance into a pile of flowers ahead of them. Petals flew through the air like tiny, multicolored birds, bringing R'yhuven and G'raha both to a halt to admire their coordinated flight. Then, as if possessing the same single mind of R'yhuven and his fragments, they similarly launched through the cloud into the same pile, hands groping for their goal.

What R'yhuven grabbed a handful of instead was scales. "Do you mind?"

Three Miqo'te heads popped free from the mound, all wearing confused looks at the unexpected voice. Around them flowers rippled ominously like ocean waves disturbed by an undersea denizen. The tail the scales belonged to snaked through R'yhuven's hands, breaking the petal sea's surface in a flash of well-polished dark blue gleaming in the sun, the perfumed waters parting to reveal one mildly amused Au Ra.

"How rude." Maer intoned casually. Eight fulms of solidly built red-haired Astrologian in flimsy wrapping blocked out the sun, basking them in the protective shade R'yhuven and G'raha knew very intimately. Bright green ringed with black stared into the pile, Maer's tail fishing until it found its mark, and Hvil flew through the air dangled upside-down by their waist. "We were busy, you know."

It was then R'yhuven finally saw it - a beautiful flower crown, clearly lovingly handmade, hung from one of Maer's clawed hands. Several pixies situated around them bore similar, but not quite as well-crafted arrangements. "I was playing with Raha!" A fully deflated Hvil told Maer, pouting. "I had no idea you were _in_ the flowers cheater! Using the pixies and the ambient aether in the soil to cover up your signature so I couldn't see you. I almost want to give you a complement."

By their reddened cheeks, flat ears, and firmly folded arms R'yhuven figured no praise was forthcoming. Nonplussed, Maer maintained a straight face when addressing the remaining upright Miqo'te, hefting his catch up to shoulder height. "They were never planning on letting you have it, you know. But in my benevolence-" He lifted his free hand to his chest dramatically, tossing his head so horns grazed the edge of a now very annoyed Hvil's foot, "-I will grant you your heart's, or rather your eyes', desire."

And with that, the eldest among R'yhuven's reflections became the most shaken, whipped from side to side like a baby rattle, Maer's expression never changing throughout. Despite no longer having a voice R'yhuven could tell Hvil made to yell frantically at the disrespect of it all. He also knew there was no real harm done except to their pride, however, and cheered when the mask came loose, fluttering through the air. "Now Raha!"

"You're mine!"

G'raha leapt straight at it, catching the fabric in both hands in a picture of feline grace. It swiftly turned into a picture of feline folly as he dropped back in the flower mound with the elegance of a brick, sending up another shower that blanketed the area in even more petals. Rustling disturbed the flowers where he landed, prompting Maer to loose Hvil just as abruptly and conduct another search using his tail. Everyone observing - R'yhuven, the pixies, and Hvil once they resurfaced - went deadly silent, then exploded in raucous laughter as Maer fished out one broadly grinning G'raha held right-side up, tail swishing in glee and beaver mask wrapped around his eyes upside-down. "How do I look Yhuven?"

He sounded so sincere, but this time R'yhuven couldn't keep his composure to match at the sight of dual frowning beavers embracing G'raha's face, their tiny embroidered feet pointed towards his forehead. "You look…" he wheezed in a futile attempt to fill his lungs and think up a working description, "…splendid."

"Almost." Maer interrupted, his voice quieter than R'yhuven expected. He stood G'raha on his feet among the flowers, then slowly, tenderly, sat his crown between crimson-furred ears. "Now you are truly splendid, dear prince."

"Ahh…" G'raha blushed to match his hair, fidgeting nervously. "But I'm not-"

A pixie perked up. "Prince!" They shouted, spinning around and clapping their hands. "Crowns for the prince!"

The sentiment spread quickly. Several pixies tossed their flower crowns alongside Maer's, leaving the fragile circles angled awkwardly atop the first and hanging from the embarrassed Miqo'te's ears. R'yhuven waded across the sea to take G'raha's hand so he wouldn't feel alone, earning him a few crowns as well. Suddenly he remembered the remaining lollipop in his pocket, deciding it would complete the look. "What prince doesn't have a scepter?"

He pressed the candy to G'raha's downturned lips. At first G'raha acted disinterested, but after a few seconds softened and succumbed to his favorite taste. Unlike the previous time he took the stick in hand to lick it properly, R'yhuven admiring every dainty flash of tongue. _Sheesh…even wearing upside-down beavers he's still so regal. 'Prince' indeed._

A rumbling sound stole everyone's attention. They glanced up the hill, towards the track running the length of Lyhe Mheg, to see a single trolley making its way down the track at a fair clip. "About time she made it back." Flowers puffed out underneath Maer as he settled into his colored lair.

"What was she preparing up there anyway?" Hvil signed from beside them. "She asked me to stall down here and then took so long I had to deal with Maer."

They were smacked back under the flowers by a scaled tail.

The trolley gradually rolled to a stop at the end destination a short way up the hill. In the distance R'yhuven made out Ilverna jumping and waving to them excitedly. "I believe your chariot has arrived." Maer waved them towards her as well.

Now R'yhuven blushed. As Hvil bounced up and down in the flowers attempting to pounce Maer's tail while it flicked back and forth in a taste of their own medicine, pixies catching the flying material to work on new crowns or just bystanding and cheering, R'yhuven carefully led G'raha back to the grass by his free hand. Crowned in floral rainbows, attended by fae servants, and wielding a staff of the finest material found in Lyhe Mheg - the longer the odd night went on, the more R'yhuven felt it was fitting to watch G'raha be honored in such a way. _I wonder how much he'll remember in the morning. And why everyone is so doting tonight._

"Want to ride the trolley Your Highness? If you keep your mask on you can have a grand surprise!"

"I do!" G'raha pulled R'yhuven down the hill for a step, then one to the right, and another to the left. "If…you wouldn't mind?"

Full faith in R'yhuven's hands again, he shoved the lollipop fully in his mouth to hold onto the crowns, letting himself be led in the correct direction as they dashed towards Ilverna for the next leg of their journey.


	5. Lyhe Mheg - Ilverna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always fear the cute ones...always :)

"Heeeeeey sorry for the wait!"

Bouncing merrily from foot to foot, Ilverna looked ready to pop waiting beside the trolley. The instant G'raha came close enough she gathered all the flower crowns to send them away and swept him off his feet into the air, almost jostling his lollipop loose, but he laughed all the same. "Ish good to shee you again, 'helpful' Ilverna!" He tilted his head. "Or perhapsh not sho much acshually."

She beamed at the warm welcome, basking for a lingering moment in G'raha's smile. _Something really is up with them - I wonder if they'll tell me eventually._ R'yhuven coughed lightly. "Maer and Hvil mentioned you were preparing something?"

"That's right!"

"Eek!" G'raha squeaked at being shoved into the closer trolley seat, turning back towards where his handler should be. "Yhuven shed I would have a grand shurprishe if I kept the mashk on during the ride. I hope you undershtand."

Ilverna squeezed his shoulder fondly. "Actually, that's perfect. Don't you worry pretty Raha!"

R'yhuven's world spun as he became Ilverna's next victim, hauled over her head and dunked in the opposite seat like a ripe apple into a barrel. "Oof! I thought you said Red Mages on your Shard don't use rapiers? How in the-"

"Fool-ish Yhuven!" She hopped over the side to sit next to G'raha, wagging a finger at R'yhuven in such a chiding manner he had to stop from having a childish fit. "I _am_ a Warrior of Light! When you try to settle disputes between nations sometimes you just have to pound a guy into the floor to get your point across, you know?"

Sparkles and sunshine practically emanated from Ilverna's delighted face. "Haha, I do know, actually." R'yhuven laughed nervously, reluctantly agreeing to not get on his most dangerous fragment's bad side on this of all nights. Twice now he'd witnessed the destructive fury that was Ilverna focused on eliminating a target, and while she had been more than accommodating so far, in a pixie dream land he couldn't be sure she had her normal self-control after seeing how the others were acting.

"Great! Now then…" Taking G'raha's hands as if they were precious gems, she placed them on the mechanism between them and R'yhuven. "Pretty Raha and helpful Ilverna push all the way down, then foolish Yhuven does the same, and we go up the track to a super big surprise! Oh and no peeking." A thin, dark thread wound through her voice. Few other times in his life had R'yhuven been less inclined to turn around backward. Both Miqo'te nodded quickly, appeasing Ilverna, and she started them up the track.

\--

No matter how many times R'yhuven made the trip, watching Lyhe Mheg go by from above never failed to impress. Usually he and a few dreaming children would man the trolley, a handful of pixies cheering them on as they giggled and huffed, working the car up the track to the higher vista - with three adults the trolley moved much faster. G'raha felt in it for the promised surprise, his adorable nose wrinkled in an effort to keep his lollipop secure without his hands while pushing down. Beside him Ilverna put her whole back into working the mechanism like a life or death situation, leaving R'yhuven scrambling to keep time or else lose the rhythm needed to get the trolley over the many inclines along the way.

But he managed to keep it together, sighing in relief when the trolley bumped against the stop at the upper track destination. Before R'yhuven could formulate a single thought about not turning around a hand clapped over his eyes lightning fast. "Hey! Can I at least-"

"You never will fully trust us, will you silly Yhuven?"

His vision wasn't returned. He was helped out of the trolley, still blind, but found his unspoken wish answered by the crystalline fingers placed in his grasp. "What's my surprise Yhuven?" By his normal speech R'yhuven figured G'raha had resumed licking his treat normally.

"No idea now. Ilverna?"

"Hehehe." Nothing felt sinister this time. "One, two-"

The distinct scent of champagne accompanied the sounds of corks popping and the spray across R'yhuven's front. "Three!"

"Surprise!"

"Congratulations!"

"Oh, this is unexpectedly fun!"

G'raha, freed from his mask by Ilverna, and R'yhuven, the hand he now realized was Hvil's no longer over his face, ducked and laughed at the simultaneous opening of several champagne bottles by the Warriors of Light and pixies surrounding them beside the fountain atop the hill that was R'yhuven's intended surprise. Everyone was there - all five of R'yhuven's fragments he had encountered over the course of the night, along with Tyr Beq and An Lad - armed with a bottle. "Oh!" Overwhelmed, G'raha snapped from side to side, unable to focus on a particular face in the chaos. "How nice! What's the occasion?"

A veil R'yhuven hadn't noticed lifted from his thoughts. Since arriving in Lyhe Mheg he had been blocked from knowing what his rambunctious reflections were up to, but now he had the full picture, including an extra surprise kept under wraps still. "It's you." R'yhuven offered to an unsuspecting G'raha, his ears lifting. Ilverna handed R'yhuven a glass and her bottle. He filled and passed the glass to the other Miqo'te while answering. "A 'thank you' gift for summoning them to my side."

"And more, if we're being honest." Oren closed the distance between them to lightly rest a hand on G'raha's head. "I don't think any of us could ever forget the seemingly weak, yet impassioned voice that called out to us across the Rift. You didn't have the strength for words we thought, bearing only an impression of the end of all our worlds being inevitable if we didn't take your hand and come with you."

"But you surprised us." Now Maer stepped in. "We would have come by that alone, but we could see the truth of your heart - you fought not only for the people, but also the one person you held most dear: us, the true us on the Source. And in the moment where we took your hand that love turned to overwhelming strength, and a voice so powerful it bowed and broke an unsundered Ascian."

Luzen blushed as she completed the circle. "Now, no thanks to spending so much time around him we've all fallen in love with you too. And so, on this hill, we make the same promise Yhuven has. For as long as we reside within this soul, we'll also be beside you no matter what you become."

"I-I…" Only the glass remained in G'raha's hand. He stammered, small, happy tears rolling down his cheeks. "Y-you don't have to…"

"Silly pretty Raha, of course we don't! But we don't have to love you either and do so you'll just have to deal with all of it!"

Ilverna aggressively put both Miqo'te in a headlock, squeezing terrified squeaks out of them. "Furthermore! We _also_ promise to make sure _this_ guy stays the kind of person who's worthy of your love, always."

"Hey!" R'yhuven started to protest. Hvil shot it down by their eyes alone. "Okay, fine, you're right. Please take care of me too." He hung his head as far as Ilverna's grip would allow in defeat.

Appeased, Hvil motioned to the two pixies. "That's better. They're all yours."

"Yay!" They both cheered. Brightly colored balloons appeared in their hands - judging by G'raha's curious expression he had no idea what they were, but R'yhuven felt resigned to his fate. "And, hiyah!"

Simultaneously Tyr Beq and An Lad hurled their respective balloons directly at R'yhuven and G'raha's trapped faces. Water burst all over them, dousing Ilverna on the side, leaving R'yhuven to cough through giggling. "I wondered how long you could wait to bring those out." He shook his head and ears mostly dry. "Are you okay Raha? Raha?"

Adult annoyance dripped down G'raha's face with the balloon's contents, carrying away his remaining tears. "I hope you have all enjoyed my behavior this evening. I'm awake enough now, thank you."

"Uh oh…"

As one they all swallowed nervously, including Ilverna and the pixies. The Red Mage released the Miqo'te, her hands held high in a sign of surrender, and backed away. Nothing but silence came from G'raha in reply - he eyed his champagne glass, somehow still full and still intact, and after checking for balloon pieces downed its contents in one long draught, vanishing the glass into the aether. "Where's the rest of them."

Not a question. The group parted, revealing the pile of human and pixie sized water balloons R'yhuven now knew Ilverna, Tyr Beq, and An Lad had worked on filling all evening. "Now now Raha, it was all in good fun." Oren attempted to calm him down gently. "It seemed kinder to play with you than wake you up given recent events." He cringed, sweating profusely as G'raha walked forward as if he didn't hear. "Except perhaps we're coming to the realization that in saying those vows we've now become subject to the same punishments as Yhuven and if you could have a small bit of mercy-"

Balloons jiggled and jostled in G'raha's arms, having been scooped up en masse by the incensed Miqo'te. He strode back through the crowd purposefully, yet failed to stop among them or throw anything, instead taking refuge behind a large mushroom to carefully unload his burden. "Well, let's get to it then."

Playful crimson eyes peeked around the barrier. "I'm no stranger to these kinds of games, though the medium is unfamiliar. If you wish to take Yhuven and I on then you had better bring your best, or I shall consider you unable to take on the duties you have just assigned yourselves."

Overjoyed to be included (and also feeling more than a little sorry for the others), R'yhuven scampered to his lover's side. Behind him the remaining observers took another moment to process events, then hustled to the balloon pile to grab their own ammunition and find cover.

"Raha! It's good to have you this way too!"

"Do not push your luck." Though his tone meant to scold G'raha's tail and ears betrayed his true mirth. The shorter Miqo'te scooted close to R'yhuven, raising the temperature between them in an atmosphere R'yhuven couldn't interpret. There was no backing up without leaving the mushroom's protection, so all he had left was to stare. The same love and affection G'raha held all night touched his whole demeanor, and R'yhuven found his legs ready to give out as soft lips pressed to his for a passionate, yet brief kiss. Their gazes held each other's when they parted, neither Miqo'te blinking as G'raha slowly picked up a water balloon, bounced it carefully to test its weight, and threw it to their side.

"Gah!" An Lad yelped, flying away from where they had tried to sneak up on the pair. "I thought you were distracted, aww."

G'raha wiggled his fingers threateningly. "Shall we teach them no one beats us if we're together?"

Water sprayed from an impact against the mushroom not far from R'yhuven's head. They broke their loving affirmation, trading it for devilish, feline smirks and water balloon-filled hands ready for an all-out engagement in a candy-filled wonderland. Though only a dream, the exhilaration filling R'yhuven from being back to back with G'raha was a rush like nothing else, but it felt so _right_. "You're damn right they can't - let's go!"


	6. Lyhe Mheg - R'yhuven and G'raha, At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R'yhuven jumped to act on his thought before his reflections did. He snatched G'raha off his feet, carrying him securely in his arms, ran for the slide, and hopped onto it. The disappointed groans accompanied by the sounds of people swiftly following behind confirmed R'yhuven's suspicions and lit a fire under him. "They're chasing us aren't they??"
> 
> "Aren't we all-!" Air whuffed from G'raha's lungs as they plummeted down the slide. The drop drove him to use R'yhuven's neck for security while granting a full backward view. "Headed the same way? Wait…oh."
> 
> No way was R'yhuven going to wait for confirmation. As soon as his feet touched the grass he fled bearing his package, sprinting across and up the hill. "They're running too, Yhuven!" G'raha clung a little tighter. "Are they trying to steal me from you?"
> 
> "Of course! You ARE the star!" Blue sky filled more and more of the horizon as R'yhuven started ascending the mushroom path up the tree's side. "Even though I told them you were mine tonight…"

Had R'yhuven been asked how the final night he spent with G'raha on the First would play out that morning, "Raha and I hurling water balloons at my reflections, after they pledged their love to him, in a dream world made of candy" might have fallen somewhere near the least likely of answers. The puddles at his and G'raha's feet, scattered balloon pieces, and soaking wet participants ducking and popping out from around various cookies, candy, and mushrooms proved that in the life of the Warrior of Light and their eclectic acquaintances truly nothing could be ruled out, however.

Almost more interestingly, G'raha had made good on his threat. R'yhuven hadn't seen any snow on the First, leading him to believe snowball fights may have been part of G'raha's childhood, for better or for worse. No one was ready for his terrifying accuracy, nor the amount of cheering celebration he indulged in when landing a solid hit. Growing up on the La Noscian plains meant R'yhuven didn't experience the wonders of thrown snow until visiting Coerthas, but he was still a Bard by trade, and Bards didn't miss.

"Argh!!"

"Hah!" Waving his ears happily, G'raha rolled behind their mushroom after nailing Luzen in the chest, sending her back behind the cover she shared with Ilverna. He fished at his feet and came up empty. "I'm out of ammunition on my side. Yhuven?"

He had his final two balloons in hand. One was meant for Maer, who barely fit in his hiding space, and the other for Tyr Beq, who kept trying to sneak up on them having not learned the lesson An Lad did earlier. "Almost-" A red flash caught R'yhuven's eye, matched with a well-timed toss that knocked the Weaver straight onto the ground. "-got them!"

"Awww!" Tyr Beq laughed, shaking themselves off musically. "We're so going to do this with the children from now on!"

R'yhuven quickly focused on his remaining target. Maer had taken the least amount of actual hits thanks to his tail. They'd all pelted him mercilessly to little avail or worse, been unlucky enough for their balloon to rebound back at them. The current plan was to aim through his defenses while someone else distracted him, but the Au Ra moved quickly for his size.

Warmer than average fingers wrapped around R'yhuven's. "Here." G'raha offered in his most serious voice, the commanding tone vibrating straight to R'yhuven's tail. It didn't help that there was no space between them as G'raha steadied R'yhuven's arm, guiding him firmly. Oren and Hvil launched a full assault using the last of their balloons, tying up Maer's defense system for the briefest of moments. "Now!!" The directive rang out in R'yhuven's ear.

"Take THIS!" R'yhuven shouted, caught up in the moment, unintentionally catching everyone's attention so they could all witness his balloon catch on Maer's horns, scattering its contents all over his unamused face. "Oh, we did it!"

"You truly did NOT…" Maer attempted to retort, one eye twitching.

"We did it, we did it!" The specifics weren't actually important to R'yhuven. Spinning around, he caught G'raha in a massive hug, wet fur and chocobo pajamas a minor inconvenience in sharing the high of the whole event with him. "Did you have fun?"

"Haha, you bet." G'raha hugged back just as strongly. "Let's do something like this again one day."

R'yhuven held his partner at arm's length. Not a single trace of doubt surrounded him, even now that he was fully aware of his surroundings. To that R'yhuven smiled and nodded, taking G'raha's hand to meet up with everyone else at the center of their battlefield. 

"That happened." Her hands casually laced together behind her head, Luzen greeted them first out of the group. "Your aim is as sharp as your mind there Raha. Poor Maer." She eyed the Au Ra smugly.

He picked balloon pieces from his horns, rolling his eyes. "For the Goddess' sake…although I will admit." Maer's face drew up in what R'yhuven knew to be the rare smile. "I did not despise that particular distraction."

"How about that. A compliment from His Royal Stoicism." Hvil motioned with a happy wave of their tail.

Ilverna jumped into the air and cheered. "Woo! The second best thing to happen tonight!"

"Ah, but." Oren addressed them more seriously. "Morning approaches, and you had a destination in mind earlier, did you not Yhuven?"

With all the revelry R'yhuven had completely forgotten where he had initially wanted to take G'raha. "I did! Let's hurry there before we have to wake up."

"Let us help!" Tyr Beq flew into their midst with haste. In a wave of their hand everyone instantly dried off. "An Lad!"

"Right!" Next up, An Lad gestured towards the side of the hill. A new slide appeared, connecting the fountain to the closest hill leading toward the large tree at the center of Lyhe Mheg. "This way!"

R'yhuven jumped to act on his thought before his reflections did. He snatched G'raha off his feet, carrying him securely in his arms, ran for the slide, and hopped onto it. The disappointed groans accompanied by the sounds of people swiftly following behind confirmed R'yhuven's suspicions and lit a fire under him. "They're chasing us aren't they??"

"Aren't we all-!" Air whuffed from G'raha's lungs as they plummeted down the slide. The drop drove him to use R'yhuven's neck for security while granting a full backward view. "Headed the same way? Wait…oh."

No way was R'yhuven going to wait for confirmation. As soon as his feet touched the grass he fled bearing his package, sprinting across and up the hill. "They're running too, Yhuven!" G'raha clung a little tighter. "Are they trying to steal me from you?"

"Of course! You ARE the star!" Blue sky filled more and more of the horizon as R'yhuven started ascending the mushroom path up the tree's side. "Even though I told them you were mine tonight…"

"Are you…pouting…?"

"You're damn right I'm pouting!"

Surprisingly, G'raha relaxed his grip in favor of laying his head on a nearby shoulder. "You should use that energy to keep me safe instead."

There wasn't any better inspiration in the world. Like the hero G'raha made him out to be R'yhuven kept him far from their pursuers, beating them to the highest lookout in Lyhe Mheg. Considering the war won he slowed, gently walking to the edge of the flower covered ledge. "See? This is why I wanted to come up here."

Rainbows arced across the perfect, cloud-dotted sky. Distant islands floated beneath them, green as the rest of Lyhe Mheg, which R'yhuven always considered havens for those who dreamt of peace and solitude rather than cavorting among the pixies. Three familiar heads sat in calm vigil atop one of the isolated land masses, and as always he wished them well in his heart.

From his arms rose a quiet gasp of awe at the view, drawing R'yhuven's attention back to the man he loved. "What a truly wondrous place this is Yhuven. Thank you for letting me visit before departing the First."

"Unfortunately," sighed R'yhuven, unable to lie and take all the credit, "this was Feo Ul's idea. I wasn't able to think straight enough to request anything specific for tonight."

"You…" A pause, heavy with unspoken emotion. G'raha searched around them for something, his eyes eventually landing on the hammocks lightly swaying in the breeze. "Can we use those? Not for anything illicit." He quickly tacked on.

By now everyone had caught up. His head held high R'yhuven strolled past them to his destination, expecting having to swat groping hands wanting to make off with his hard-earned prize, but no one made an attempt. In fact they seemed wholly disinterested, and in a quick check R'yhuven confirmed they'd all put on one last grand show to let R'yhuven come out the hero. _Thanks you all. You're too good to us._

He laid G'raha across the closest hammock amid multiple confirmations, knowing without looking that the five of them had dispersed around the rise far enough away to give them privacy. Joining alongside G'raha gave the cloth extra momentum. Drawn to R'yhuven as a magnet, the crimson-furred Miqo'te wrapped his entire body around him, arms, legs, and tails tangled together. "I can't stop you from worrying, can I?" He asked once they settled.

"No, you can't." R'yhuven admitted, sighing. Loose strands of dark blue pulled free from his ponytail as he absently pulled at them in thought. "I don't want to lose you when I try to wake you up."

Warm breath spread across R'yhuven's chest from G'raha's light chuckle. "How quickly you forget your own words." Their fingers became an intimate tangle as well. "You convinced me there is nothing different between myself and the man sleeping on the Source. That in the end we would both walk the same path and make the same choices. So no matter the conclusion, we _will_ meet again, just as I promised you. Besides."

G'raha planted the smallest of kisses to R'yhuven's shoulder, quelling the uneasy tremble that unconsciously shook R'yhuven's troubled body. "Worst case, my younger self awakens and all of me returns to the vessel. You'll have a bit of confusion to clear up, but I can still be with you, in a more…portable…form." Another chuckle echoed across R'yhuven, except this time it stopped short, fear casting a shadow over G'raha that stopped R'yhuven's heart. "If that happened would you…"

Nails dug into G'raha's palms, flesh and crystal alike, as R'yhuven clung to him as if to squeeze the very concept troubling G'raha from his mind. "I would _never_ abandon you! I'd take you on every adventure I have. And besides, I'm sure Feo Ul and I could think of something so we could see each other like we are now. Huh…but…" R'yhuven couldn't help his next thought. "What if when I wake you up again that you wants nothing to do with me?"

"…" They mutually stalled.

"Best not to entertain that line of thinking unless it comes up, I would say." Words that R'yhuven, in his way of not considering hard concepts too deeply, might say, but coming from G'raha felt more reasonable. "Regardless _I_ would choose to remain with you unless he wanted otherwise. Honestly, I'm simply happy I'm here, in this vessel, at all."

G'raha pulled their joined hands close to him, returning the strength of the grip in what R'yhuven felt was equal sentiment. "All these hundred years I've worried my soul failed to accomplish its journey across the Rift, leaving me as a collection of soulless memories given purpose by lingering resolve and granted a doll's body by the Crystal Tower, fragile and dependent on it to survive. But in those final moments at the throne I knew…I knew…"

His voice cracked, once more laden with emotion, and R'yhuven fought to hold back crying for him. As always, G'raha proved the more resilient of them when it came to controlling his emotions. "Oh, and thank you." He continued. "Reshaping your crystalbloom key into a cradle to hang my soul vessel from your neck was very thoughtful of you. I…umm…"

Scarlet colored his embarrassed cheeks. "My key is lost. Or rather, it belongs to the Tower now. I wore it as a good luck charm beneath my robes while fashioning the empty soul vessels so…"

"So it was caught in the new crystallization you had when we met on the watchtower." R'yhuven finished for him. The tiniest nod confirmed his guess, as did sad, wilted ears. "Raha, I'm not upset." He nudged his nose to the closest ear, conveniently the left, lightly lapping and teasing it using his teeth until it regained life. "That makes me very happy truth be told. It means the Exarch will forever have a piece of his inspiration's soul bound to him, to guard him during his vigil."

A single, traitorous tear squeezed past R'yhuven's defenses, loosed by the finality of the image of the Crystal Exarch frozen in eternal time. The flutter of pixie wings by the Miqo'tes' heads halted any followers, however. "It's time." Tyr Beq informed them.

"No, wait!!" Irrational panic gripped R'yhuven hard. "There's so much more I have to say! We can't-mmh!"

Using their hands for leverage G'raha pushed himself up, capturing R'yhuven's lips in a full, passionate kiss. It hardly seemed the time - R'yhuven struggled to break free, pulling from side to side, trying to bring a leg up between them, anything. But he had spent months training the man above him not only in the fine art of kissing, but also in how to tame him to win any such fight.

R'yhuven writhed futilely for as long as G'raha granted him, until the firm direction of the mouth controlling his bade him abandon his efforts, melting him into sweet, shivering surrender. They had never shared a kiss like this before - there was passion, deep and true, yet also trust and hope the likes of which even G'raha hadn't yet shown him. Every way they touched was burned into R'yhuven's mind, and as Lyhe Mheg faded he knew the moment would always be with him.

_You told me, not so long ago, that I as I cast my own inner light I had no need for the sun, calling it a thief always stealing me from you with the day's obligations. I failed to tell you then but, I actually disagree. Without the sun none of this would have come to pass. The Crystal Tower could draw its immense power from naught else, and as it exists so does all that's transpired between us, from our stolen moments in simpler times to crossing time and space itself. And so I say - let the morning come. This morning, and every morning after. Let them come, and let the sun guide us as it always has. For in its light will we define our paths, and in its absence we will carry on hand in hand using the lessons it has taught us, now and forever more..._


	7. Eyes Ever Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus the Warrior of Light stood at the precipice of the unknown. At his back were the last bastions of familiarity left to him on the First, and had he the choice he could have turned and spoken to them, delaying the inevitable for a small bit of comfort. There was no turning back this day, however - no more sliding back into the routine, no more pretending things could continue as they were, no more time to waste.   
> And so, eyes ever forward R'yhuven stepped through the mirror, casting himself into the Rift, bearing six soul vessels and six fervent prayers to whichever gods existed in the corridors of space and time.
> 
> None answered.
> 
> They never did.

"The sun, is it…?"

Waking from his antics in Lyhe Mheg always surprised R'yhuven at how refreshed he felt. On this particular morning, however, rather than exit the bed with his usual burst of vigor, quiet contemplation bade him remain beneath the covers a while longer. Beside him rested G'raha's soul vessel, neatly laid on the pillow by his head, the chain for the converted key having been hung around R'yhuven's neck by Feo Ul. It too exuded calm and peace in the morning light. "You simply _had_ to take a parting shot at my foolishness, you brat." He sighed sheepishly at his own shortcomings.

Six nervous souls brought R'yhuven's hand to rest on the vessel, its warmth reminiscent of the crystal G'raha once bore (for good reason, Oren pointed out), and a reminder of what was at stake. No one felt quite ready to start their day yet. So they waited, counting the errant heartbeats that reached R'yhuven's ears in the stillness, and slightly selfishly waiting on G'raha to signal his readiness to begin their journey.

And he soon did, an eager undercurrent subtly vibrating through the crystal. "Okay then. Let's get going on today's adventure!" Said with more enthusiasm than R'yhuven felt, but if it could he was sure the vessel would have flown across the room from G'raha's overflowing excitement. "Alright, alright, I'm up!"

R'yhuven rolled from bed, cat-stretching down to his tail. Hurriedly he collected everything from the vanity except the crystalbloom, patting it in fond farewell as he finished up and left the bedroom, beelining right for the bath. Since obtaining G'raha's soul vessel R'yhuven would remove it from his neck when getting ready in the morning, but he wouldn't allow them to be apart today. G'raha didn't seem to mind, his enthusiasm never waning while being constantly swung around in the whirlwind of R'yhuven's morning routine being performed in double time.

The Warriors of Light's thoughts still managed to drift in their preparation, leaving R'yhuven to absently examine his face in the mirror while brushing his teeth. _Hmm, which do I wear - armor or casual clothes? Normally for a formal event it'd be armor no contest, but I think I'm past being formal with the people of the First by now. And there's no way I'm going to escape without at least one goodbye, probably from Ryne._ His brushing was on full autopilot. _This kind of parting…who's ever done one before? Maybe…they did, before they…? No, let's not think about that and just go casual. I'm sure Raha wouldn't mind not clanking against the inside of my armor for a day! Oh, speaking of Raha, does he seem kind of upset?_

They blinked back into full awareness. Somewhere during his musing R'yhuven had completely lost his focus. A trail of white oozed down his chin to drip into the sink, and he hurriedly pulled the toothbrush from his mouth to rinse it and his face clean. "Sorry for making a mess Raha!" His eyes drifted lower when G'raha's mood only grew worse. "W-wait…NOOO!!"

Toothpaste-filled drool thoroughly coated G'raha's soul vessel. "How?? I'M SORRY RAHA!!"

Forgoing his promise in pure embarrassment R'yhuven nearly launched his most precious possession into their bathroom sink. Normally deft fingers fumbled attempting to hold the crystal and turn the faucet on until he made the groundbreaking discovery that he had not one, but two hands, and he could use them both at the same time. Thus empowered, R'yhuven finally was able to clean the vessel off, vigorously rinsing it and apologizing. "Sorry sorry sorry!" Watching the water run down the drain sent R'yhuven into another panic. "Goddess, am I DROWNING you now?!"

An impression of past laughter shared in the well-used room brought R'yhuven to a halt, his nose wrinkling in annoyance. "You little - you just wanted attention! Do you even care about the mess?? Argh!" Now that he and his fragments' were distracted, however, they joined in, laughing out loud. "Or did you know we needed that? Nothing really can stop you huh?"

With a greater sense of focus and no further distractions save G'raha's lingering amusement teasing constant red into R'yhuven's tanned cheeks, the Miqo'te pulled on his favorite First ensemble, the revealing green overcoat fashioned from cloth obtained in the Crystarium, braided his hair, tying it off with a decorative ribbon, and applied his signature perfume in a way that wouldn't overwhelm his charge if his sense of smell still worked within the crystal. Head held high R'yhuven cleaned up the bathroom before starting down the hallway, not looking back on his way to the front door.

"Did you rest well my sapling?"

Feo Ul sat on a rung of the coat rack. Several familiar flower circles hung from their hands. "I regret missing out on the fun, but I had preparations to make to honor your first wish."

"And those?" R'yhuven gestured curiously.

"'Crowns for the prince.'" They replied with a smile. "There are many a flower that would love to drink from the water around that giant throne, and many a pixie who would love to grow them." The flowers rustled as Feo Ul held up their bounty. "My dear friend will never lack for company, nor decoration. His memorial will live among a garden as well-tended as that he raised himself, including the blooms you gifted him."

Picturing the Exarch standing among the colors of Lyhe Mheg and shining crystalbloom lifted R'yhuven's heart. A humble air surrounded G'raha's soul vessel. Feo Ul must have picked up on it as well, and flew over to touch the crystal's surface. "You mortals never can see what lies right in front of you."

They pulled back, shaking their head. "Away, away with you both now! You have far to go today, precious sapling, and lives to restore. Don't waste another second!"

"I won't!" The door swung open wide. In the distance the early morning sun reflected off the Crystal Tower beautifully as ever, bathing the sprawling city below in gentle rainbow tones. _A perfect farewell for him and everyone else._ Fresh air filled R'yhuven's lungs, invigorating him to move across the threshold, and he held the spire in his gaze while closing up the entrance to his beloved home. "I'll see you soon my lovely branch!"

\--

R'yhuven had thought himself ready, his heart steeled to endure the farewells he was sure to give and receive. But only with the aid of his other selves taking on the overflow of emotion from not only Ryne's farewell, but Lyna's backed by almost the entire Crystarium, did he not dissolve into a bawling mess on the ground. He confidently reassured Lyna he would recount her words and well-wishes to G'raha, not letting on how her grandfather had heard them himself, seen her sorrow and resolve, been bolstered by the unshakable faith of the people he had led until he no longer could, and was equally moved. Among the crowd R'yhuven spotted Kelmina, the Galdjent woman in charge of the newly formed Crystarium Civilian Defense Force, and her recruits, as well as Elliwise, Vera, and their Crystarium guard adopted mothers, the Drahn family brought together by the evacuation of Holminster Switch ordered by the Crystal Exarch. There was no helping clutching G'raha's soul vessel at the sight of both children holding equally tight to new felt Exarch dolls, both without hoods and sporting bright red and white Mystel ears, as the Exarch's largest fan lowered her head in prayer for her role model's safe journey.

Y'shtola's motherly suggestion saved them just as R'yhuven couldn't handle anything more. Leaving the hopeful energy behind they moved to the Ocular, where the remainder of the Source's inhabitants were transferred to their own soul vessels. Beq Lugg and Ryne's conversation carried on in the background while R'yhuven carefully collected the new crystals, nearly wanting to laugh hysterically from stress at this point, placing them in his aetherial bags far enough from the towels that no one could complain.

\--

Thus the Warrior of Light stood at the precipice of the unknown. At his back were the last bastions of familiarity left to him on the First, and had he the choice he could have turned and spoken to them, delaying the inevitable for a small bit of comfort. There was no turning back this day, however - no more sliding back into the routine, no more pretending things could continue as they were, no more time to waste. 

And so, eyes ever forward R'yhuven stepped through the mirror, casting himself into the Rift, bearing six soul vessels and six fervent prayers to whichever gods existed in the corridors of space and time.

None answered.

They never did. 

Yet something stirred. The Rift was always filled with echoes of R'yhuven's memories when he traveled its forbidden halls, but the swelling sense of awe at his breast had absolutely nothing to do with his first time seeing the ocean, and absolutely everything to do with the vibrant life radiating from G'raha's vessel. Steady and strong as ever, it washed over R'yhuven like cleansing rain after stormy skies, chasing off the gloom to expose the clearest blue.

And while many trials remained ahead, he could finally add his voices to those pushing him forward from his back - all _would_ be well.


	8. Queen of Mor Dhona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Screeching like a banshee, Arpeggio veered hard to the right, leaping from the cliff as R'yhuven screamed alongside her, less concerned for himself and more horrified at watching his friend's sudden death wish. They soundly plummeted, landing directly on a giant toad whose pained chirp said it didn't appreciate the added weight, then bounced off its back to remain hovering in the air. Arpeggio flapped her wings until they gained enough altitude to see clear across Mor Dhona, craning her long neck around to smugly glare at her flabbergasted rider. "H-how…"
> 
> Her head tilted back against G'raha's crystal. "Can you feel him too?" R'yhuven asked gently, his, his fragments', and G'raha's relief flowing through him bringing a brief tear to his eyes. He hugged Arpeggio's neck, burying his face in her black-tipped feathers to erase the evidence. "Look at you, you stubborn bird. I guess you'll do anything for him too, huh?"

As soon as the Syrcus Trench came into focus R'yhuven made a mad dash for Arpeggio's chocobo stable. His partner of several years and a Calamity who always knew exactly when he'd return from the First, Arpeggio pranced and kwehed excitedly. Picking up on R'yhuven's urgency she forewent waiting for affection and burst from her confines, charging straight towards R'yhuven at full speed. Mount and rider met each other with a lifetime of experience, R'yhuven grasping the pommel of the saddle he knew Arpeggio was wearing mid-stride as she ran past and swinging into it. Before she could take off for Lake Silvertear he shouted to the Son of Saint Coinach manning the expedition that day. "I need you to send word to the Find!"

The robed woman blinked, looking up from her notes, saw the impatience of both her observers, and quickly straightened up. "What is it Sir R'yhuven?"

"Tell them," R'yhuven caught himself, realizing he needed to be personal to get this person to abandon their comfortable role of doing absolutely nothing for a moment, "tell _Rammbroes_ , to pull G'raha Tia's belongings out of storage."

"G'ra-!"

He couldn't wait for her to gape at him. "We're leaving Peg!"

She had been trotting in a circle to contain herself, but at hearing one of her favorite words began bouncing uncontrollably. R'yhuven managed to direct her head towards the Trench's exit to give the G'raha-loving chocobo an outlet. Arpeggio raced to the lake and jumped in without any further urging, swimming them to the opposite shore fast as she could.

It normally didn't bother R'yhuven, but he briefly regret Arpeggio's inability to fly in Mor Dhona. It was one of the few places in Eorzea not subject to flight restrictions due to Garlean activity, and she was a champion flyer if she could see the ground. The area's unstable aether not only made the currents dangerously rough to navigate, however, but also prevented R'yhuven from summoning his other flying companions.

Still, they made record time crossing Silvertear. R'yhuven kept a hand around G'raha, whose excitement hadn't faded, hating watching the Crystal Tower grow smaller and smaller in the distance without taking G'raha to the throne room. "Once I'm sure they're okay we'll be back," he offered, partly to reassure G'raha, partly to hear a reassuring voice, "and when you're awake we're spending all the time together you want, wherever you want."

Arpeggio beat a path straight for Revenant's Toll after R'yhuven dried them both using a simple fire spell he'd learned long ago, completely ignoring the vipers, giants, and toads littering the way to town. During R'yhuven's time visiting G'raha years ago his wild companion would roam about the area mauling the creatures who called Mor Dhona home when not imposing on the budding Miqo'te couple. Since G'raha's sealing R'yhuven spent much less time in the area, yet every living thing there still either let her be or fled at first sight, causing him to suspect Arpeggio's reign of terror started long before R'yhuven became part of NOAH. Back then he always playfully scolded his reckless friend for her antics, but couldn't deny how at times like now they paid off.

As soon as the cobblestones of Revenant's Toll passed beneath them R'yhuven leaned out the saddle, waiting for the right moment. Pale blue light filled R'yhuven's vision as the aetheryte came into view, Arpeggio rounding the bend of the main thoroughfare, expertly weaving around the residents and adventurers making their way through the bustling hub between nations. Across from the aetheryte sat Seventh Heaven, the tavern housing R'yhuven's final destination, the Rising Stones, and he leapt from Arpeggio's back to hurry inside while she made her way to the Toll's stable.

"Cool her down and check her saddle, but put it back on! And make it fast!"

Startling his second unsuspecting victim, the stablehand, R'yhuven flipped him a coin amounting to much more than he would owe for his friend's care mid-run. The metal gleamed in the aetherial light as it flew through the air, repeatedly bouncing from the stablehand's grasp as he fumbled catching it, but once he saw just how much it was he scrambled to honor R'yhuven's request without questioning him.

Everything after that was a blur. Somewhere between entering the tavern and arriving at the Rising Stones the Warrior of Light in R'yhuven found itself (he thanked Luzen), bringing him a facade of composure when informing Krile and Tataru that he came bearing their friends' missing souls. He and his fragments anxiously waited to see if the transferal process succeeded, and once the Scions stirred, confirming it had and they were well, R'yhuven quietly apologized to them all as he fled the room, grasping the final soul vessel he had conveniently neglected to explain like a lifeline.

His heart could wait no longer.

The stablehand was putting the finishing touches on adjusting Arpeggio's equipment when R'yhuven returned. He moved out of the Miqo'te's way as he mounted Arpeggio a second time, but interrupted R'yhuven's attempt to leave. "Word just came down sir - the civilian flight ban is lifted in Eorzea."

"Perfect timing!" Seeing the world go by from an airship was nothing like experiencing it from chocoboback - a lesson R'yhuven had learned traveling to and from Ishgard. Thoughts of sharing his first times feeling Eorzean winds blowing through his fur from on high with G'raha beside him had R'yhuven's tail wagging hard while he steered Arpeggio clear of the stable and down the road they'd come up not fifteen minutes prior.

\--

Revenant's Toll's gates passed overhead, marking their return to the ruined wastes of Mor Dhona. R'yhuven's view of the broken remains of Garlean warmachines and Midgardsormr's corpse in silent vigil over them abruptly swayed, bounced, and lurched sideways not far out, prompting a swift clutching of Arpeggio's reins. Her footing had slipped, sending them both dangerously close to tumbling off the side of the cliff onto jagged metal and the frogs that lived in it. "Peg?" He worried quietly - in the years they'd been together R'yhuven had never seen her falter once, not even in the thick of battle.

She ignored him, awkwardly hopping and stumbling again. Now G'raha panicked, adding to the sickening feeling spreading through R'yhuven and the others. "Peg, what's wrong?? Am I riding you too hard after crossing the lake?" Pulling her to a stop proved futile - she tossed her head and refused, instead choosing to run full speed down the hill so R'yhuven couldn't dismount either. "What are you-!"

Screeching like a banshee, Arpeggio veered hard to the right, leaping from the cliff as R'yhuven screamed alongside her, less concerned for himself and more horrified at watching his friend's sudden death wish. They soundly plummeted, landing directly on a giant toad whose pained chirp said it didn't appreciate the added weight, then bounced off its back to remain hovering in the air. Arpeggio flapped her wings until they gained enough altitude to see clear across Mor Dhona, craning her long neck around to smugly glare at her flabbergasted rider. "H-how…"

Her head tilted back against G'raha's crystal. "Can you feel him too?" R'yhuven asked gently, his, his fragments', and G'raha's relief flowing through him bringing a brief tear to his eyes. He hugged Arpeggio's neck, burying his face in her black-tipped feathers to erase the evidence. "Look at you, you stubborn bird. I guess you'll do anything for him too, huh?"

Far larger than any aetheryte, the Crystal Tower, surrounded by the Labyrinth of the Ancients, dominated the skyline ahead. Off in the distance to his left the warped, crackling remains of Dalamud did the same, each a contrasting example of how the fantastical inventions of the Allagan Empire continued to shape the world thousands of years after its demise. Fiercely determined to not be outdone, R'yhuven held tight to his own Allagan miracle and steered Arpeggio forward towards the shining, silent blue he'd cursed day after day for years.

Arpeggio drew her body up close as possible and dove into the nearest current going their way. Turbulent winds clawed angrily at Arpeggio's wings, threatening to toss them back out again. This was one situation where R'yhuven had no control - chocobos flew by virtue of their innate ability to direct aether, leaving it in Arpeggio's talons to navigate her way through. At most he could avoid being a hindrance by matching her movements with his body so as to not throw off her balance as she battled against her invisible foe.

"…" The disgruntled chocobo snorted angrily into the winds. Then, she stopped everything - stopped fighting, and much more terrifyingly stopped flapping. In complete trust R'yhuven clenched the reins, ready to help with whatever Arpeggio had planned, but to his and everyone else's surprise they didn't fall. _Wait…it's so still. Where is the wind? How are we not on the ground??_

Wind aether suddenly chased down each and every one of Arpeggio's feathers, motes of green light sparkling and streaming outward around R'yhuven in a fantastical show. The aura she exuded was closer to that of the many elemental avatars he had harnessed in his travels, not that of a far above average, yet allegedly normal chocobo. "Has this been hiding in you all along?" Disbelief and astonishment equally colored R'yhuven's inquiry. "I've always known you had your secrets but this...we're going to discuss this later young lady. But for now."

He pressed his calves to Arpeggio's sides, leaning forward out the saddle and over her neck and head. "Raha's waiting for us - GO!!"

"KWEH!!"

She lifted her wings once more, and in a solid, dramatic flap finished canceling out the troublesome aether currents. Now truly the queen of Mor Dhona, Arpeggio flew for the Crystal Tower double time, blazing a shining trail across the sky R'yhuven was sure the residents of both Revenant's Toll and Saint Coinach's Find could see even in the midday light. Much more controlled air pulled R'yhuven's light clothing and braid straight out behind him, exhilaration he'd never felt the likes of before making him giddy. "Peg!"

 _What in the Seven Hells else could you need right now?_ Her brown eyes said to him as she turned, but she fluffed up at the fond scratch by her ears as R'yhuven laughed. "The next time I doubt you, bite me!"

She seemed ready to try it right then in her typical feisty nature. "Kweh…"

"Please, don't ruin the moment."


	9. Out of the Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two-year old memories rushed back in vivid detail, of him and the man he didn't realize he had given his heart until those very doors drew a seemingly impenetrable shutter between them. He turned, and saw the world as G'raha Tia did in his final moments as a normal human and his first as Administrator of the Crystal Tower. Mor Dhona's wounds spread out into the distance, the Keeper of the Lake watching in judgment. Dalamud stood out like a festering, orange boil. The sun, life source of his domain, hung in the sky cheerfully as it did every day no matter how world-ending the events. And amidst it all he closed his eyes, listening closely to the grinding of old gears for the perfect moment to say the words he should have before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller update than usual, but the next is already in the works and will have feels - going to have to revoke a tag I think!

For all Arpeggio's newfound abilities, she would be no match for the Crystal Tower's aerial defenses, necessitating traveling through the Labyrinth of the Ancients to reach the main door. R'yhuven landed them at the teleporter to the Labyrinth and hopped down, surprised to see the aura around Arpeggio remain intact. "Did you want to keep going?"

By her anxious bouncing and chirping R'yhuven took the sign she did. He pushed the final buttons to activate the teleporter, heading back to mount Arpeggio before she pranced her way through the gateway without him.

The Allagan device blinked them to the lava-filled halls guarding the entrance to the Syrcus Tower in mere seconds. Unphased and still shining, Arpeggio made a few experimental hops, then easily took flight in the cavernous structure. "Okay, but this is the last we're flying today. You may be literally high on aether but I'm not trading loved ones for each other, alright?" Cutting his time to cross the Labyrinth was a welcome boon, but even G'raha was beginning to worry Arpeggio was feeling too indestructible for her own good.

Viewing the spectacle of the Labyrinth from above was an experience R'yhuven was glad he could give G'raha, however. Between the cool breeze generated by Arpeggio's wind aether and her abundance of experience in the Hells' Lid, she brazenly soared close to the falls of molten lava, sometimes flying beneath them if she felt particularly brave. No amount of trying to guide the willful chocobo worked - she was determined to cut her own path to their destination. "What do I even have reins for with you Peg?"

She snorted, as she always did when R'yhuven sounded annoyed in her saddle, and promptly weaved dangerously close to the largest fall she could find.

By the time they reached the path to the gates of Syrcus Tower, however, Arpeggio showed clear signs of fatigue. When R'yhuven issued the command to land he met no resistance. The aura vanished, allowing R'yhuven to at last feel the sweat-dampened feathers clinging to his friend. He dismounted Arpeggio for the last time, took hold of her reins, and slowly walked her up the stairs into the gradually setting afternoon sun.

"There they are."

A long corridor stretched back in front of them. At its end were the doors that had taken G'raha from R'yhuven two years ago, but where the walk had been sterile then the path now overflowed white, garnet, and azure crystalbloom, proof of R'yhuven's promise to not let G'raha languish in loneliness while he slept. The soul vessel at R'yhuven's neck stirred in a variety of emotions. "I hope you don't mind that I did this," R'yhuven pat the crystal softly, not ready to give up his full secret just yet, "but it seemed fitting for you to see them when you finally awoke. I figured…even if this you knew nothing of your trials on the First, when he saw them he'd know they were from me."

"Kweh?"

Yellow and black feathers ruffled through R'yhuven's fingers as he stroked Arpeggio's neck - she didn't quite understand he wasn't speaking to her. "I hope you forgive me too. I shouldn't have brought you this far."

Waking G'raha would have to wait a few more minutes. R'yhuven produced a water bowl and a canteen from his bags. Immediately recognizing her belongings Arpeggio settled on the ground to drink, giving an opening for R'yhuven to unclasp her saddle and brush out her feathers to the best of his ability. "You're a mess Peg."

A bowl of light greens joined the other, enough so Arpeggio wouldn't have an empty stomach but not so much she threw it up on the final leg of her journey. Arpeggio's eyes grew wide, but she obediently waited when R'yhuven used the hand signal for her to hold off. "When you're done," he gestured the signal for 'finished', a concept a battle-trained chocobo knew well, "head to _Bentbranch Meadows_ so they can take care of you." He slowly emphasized the destination so she understood. Like a porter chocobo Arpeggio was also trained to travel to several destinations without guidance, giving a confirmation chirp so R'yhuven knew she understood.

Patting her head one more time R'yhuven went to stand, but not before Arpeggio tapped G'raha's soul vessel with her beak tiredly. "We'll both come get you from Bentbranch, I promise. Just wait there and let them pamper you for a bit. Maybe find yourself a cute girl to cuddle up to like last time!"

She shoved her face in her food without another peep.

All his affairs settled, R'yhuven inhaled deeply, craning his head back to stare up at the Crystal Tower. On exhale he sprinted for the distant doors, sending flower petals through the air with each hurried step.

_Clink._

Crystal pinged off stone halfway to the door. Given the urgency of his mission R'yhuven meant to ignore it for later, except he felt strangely empty, as if he had lost something incredibly important to him. The uneasy feeling gave him pause, and he turned back a few steps to search in the flowers for the unknown item.

With haste he combed through the white and garnet carpet, the situation strangely bringing to mind his search for the beacon to the First though they were complete opposites. R'yhuven spun in place, crawled, why couldn't he find it, _that eye of yours is meant to show you MORE, not LESS of the world around you A-----...why is it you always struggle so to see that most important to you?_ , but _oh_ , there it is.

The rounded edges of the amber-colored stone felt right in R'yhuven's fingers, chasing away the light fog in his mind and the fragment of long lost memory that had rolled in with it. It remained hidden in his fist, another secret to be revealed when the time was right, and he was sorry for it. _Thank 'you' for choosing to remember 'me', Hades._ R'yhuven stealthily returned the keepsake to the coat pocket he didn't remember putting it in to begin with. _If not for your help none of this would be possible._

Rising to his feet, he ran the last of the way to the doors, watching them creak open impatiently. Once a Miqo'te-sized gap appeared R'yhuven headed through, but he stopped, suddenly compelled to glance back and wait for them to close once more.

Two-year old memories rushed back in vivid detail, of him and the man he didn't realize he had given his heart until those very doors drew a seemingly impenetrable shutter between them. He turned, and saw the world as G'raha Tia did in his final moments as a normal human and his first as Administrator of the Crystal Tower. Mor Dhona's wounds spread out into the distance, the Keeper of the Lake watching in judgment. Dalamud stood out like a festering, orange boil. The sun, life source of his domain, hung in the sky cheerfully as it did every day no matter how world-ending the events. And amidst it all he closed his eyes, listening closely to the grinding of old gears for the perfect moment to say the words he should have before it was too late.

'I love you.'

The doors slammed shut.


	10. At Memory's End - R'yhuven, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While G'raha's souls come together, R'yhuven takes an unexpected trip through childhood memories looking for a song to sing the sleeping Administrator.
> 
> cw: light verbal abuse of children

"If I have to, _huff_ , run up this damnable Tower _one more time_ , _wheeze_ , this week, I am going to perish, _cough_."

R'yhuven complained in high spirits, taking a quick break to lean against a railing halfway up Syrcus Tower. "Why couldn't the teleporters have turned back on?? When I find the person in charge we're going to exchange a few words."

It had the intended effect - taking everyone's mind off the reason they last made this climb. G'raha's amusement meant the most as R'yhuven's legs continued to bear him upward, past the landing where the Exarch had collapsed in agony, his body further crystallizing from Elidibus' mad efforts, and in a moment of guilty weakness R'yhuven off-handedly asked why G'raha had chosen him for his mission. The question hardly made sense after all they had shared, and G'raha's confusion clearly reflected his similar feelings on it. All that came to mind was seeking extra nourishment for the seed of chaos threatening to erupt from the well-tended earth in which his heroism was rooted to better choke it to death if G'raha's soul vessel was irretrievable. That R'yhuven was making a climb now meant the worst hadn't come to pass, yet the seed and the black Soulstone representing it remained a problem he would need to resolve, soon.

Running fast from that problem he continued onward. The staircase spiraled ever upward past more landings and side paths to rooms until at last, R'yhuven once more saw the sky overhead, marking his emergence in the throne room. He thought to run for the throne - and that thought quickly faded upon taking stock of what awaited him.

"Raha, what is this…?"

Far from sleeping peacefully upon the throne, the most logical place R'yhuven could think of, a large crystal formation rose before it. At its center hung G'raha, not curled up in feline repose, but suspended facing upward, his arms, legs, and tail hanging down as if he had been lifted towards the sky and caught in the Tower's embrace. "I suppose it's comfortable enough," R'yhuven scratched an ear thoughtfully, "but breaking you out is going to make a huge mess."

G'raha was full of nervous energy as R'yhuven approached the structure, the Miqo'te within at eye height. Hilariously all that concerned R'yhuven was ruining his clothes, and he focused one of the many magical barriers he knew as a Paladin, which typically reduced damage to all of him, on just his clothing so it would remain unscathed.

"Here we are then…" He lifted the soul vessel from its cradle, the key reverting back to its original form. "I'll see you soon."

The two crystals resonated with each other. Vibrations gradually shook the larger formation with increasing force, eventually leading it to shatter in a shower of fast moving fragments. Vessel still in hand, R'yhuven didn't hesitate to reach in and snatch G'raha's falling body so he didn't hit the ground, ignoring the myriad cuts the crystal carved across his exposed skin.

All R'yhuven knew was the warm body resting in his arms, chest rising and falling in a peaceful, light snore. His aetherometer and bow were missing, but if the armor and tattoos weren't enough to identify G'raha the scent R'yhuven had secretly partaken of in loneliness across the years, was.

The broken crystal gradually faded back to aether, the thin trails of blood from its dramatic undoing healing at the same rate. Tired of standing after his trek R'yhuven settled on the ground, shifting G'raha so his head laid in the crook of his shoulder, and pressed the soul vessel into G'raha's open palm, wrapping his fingers about it. "I'll be here, take your time." R'yhuven murmured, pressing fond lips to the top of G'raha's head. "I'm going to make good on that promise to take you on my next adventure. It'll be rather long though, so make sure you're prepared before we strike out."

G'raha didn't stir, as expected. R'yhuven could only imagine how much the present and future Administrators had to say to the other. Waiting in silence didn't sit well with him, however. _Not like my hands are free to play something. There is the recording. Should I play that?_

All five of his active reflections rejected the idea for it not being personal enough. _Well what else then? I suppose I could hum-_ Also rejected. _Oh, come on, that only leaves…singing…_ They immediately agreed. _I don't want him to wake up to a yeti serenade - you know how terrible I sound!_

But they wouldn't back down, insisting R'yhuven inflict his singing voice on G'raha. Not knowing any songs was no excuse seeing how long he had been a musician either. _Is there something I can maybe muddle through without causing him too much trauma?_

A glowing panel appeared before R'yhuven. Allagan letters scrawled across its surface, followed by a voice he didn't recognize speaking more Allagan. "Oh, is this something Raha did?" He reached out to touch the panel curiously, being sure to avoid anything resembling a button. It didn't matter - the moment his hand brushed the strange manifestation a worryingly cheerful sound played, the scrawl lit bright green, and the world cut from R'yhuven's vision.

\--

La Noscian winds blew golden waves of grain taller than R'yhuven's young ears around him as water in a pond. Adults scattered throughout the field toiled to collect the season's harvest, and ever the endless helper R'yhuven had forsaken playing with the other kittens to join in. His adventure-seeking heart, the cause of most problems between R'yhuven and his family even at the age of nine, constantly yearned for new experiences no matter how mundane they seemed to everyone else.

For years he had begged, pleaded to help harvest the tribe's staples, dashing away teary-eyed whenever he was thwarted by excuses like 'the tools are too heavy for you' or 'you're too young to do it properly'. A bow had never left R'yhuven's hands since he first learned to use his tail to balance upright, and neither had blood. So why not? It was just plants - how could a scythe and a few stalks weigh more than watching the life fade from another living being?

In a few strokes across the hearty stalks, he knew. Repeatedly cutting, catching, and bundling the fallen wheat had R'yhuven aching all over in short order. Hunting involved a great deal of patience, of waiting with bow drawn until he became one with the wind and earth to camouflage his presence from his prey. Strength and technique determined the success of the hunt, but no effort R'yhuven had ever exerted pulling a bow came close to the backbreaking work he dealt in now.

Just when thoughts of slinking to his mother, tail between his legs, to tell her she had been right began to fill R'yhuven's heavy head, a far-off melody drifted to his wilted ears. He couldn't make out the words, yet for hearing even the barest edge of them his body felt lighter. Off to his side another voice, singer unseen, joined in, then another, then another still. A chorus of Miqo'te gradually blanketed the field in joyous song, the sacrifices of their ancestors during the Great Migration retold and repurposed to lend strength to those they had gifted rich Eorzean soil.

It had the intended effect - the rhythm picked young R'yhuven up and swept him along on the perilous journey. And as those who came before refused to give in to fatigue, neither would he. One song blended into the next, and before R'yhuven knew it the day's work was done. Several adults complemented him on how much wheat he had harvested, to where his mother couldn't find fault with him…yet. Without the music all his tiredness came crashing back but, as he walked back home, his small, callused hand snugly yet silently clasped in his mother's, for the first time he felt truly connected to his tribe.

Eventually during the season R'yhuven learned the songs himself. Left in his own space while working, he quietly whispered the words under his breath so as to not disrupt the sacred atmosphere woven time after time. Not until he knew every word to every song solidly by heart did he dare to join in one day, when the sun beat down particularly hot and sweat beaded at the base of his tail the instant he stepped outside.

It was awful.

If one's singing voice had a color, R'yhuven would assign his 'void'. Again and again he fought with his useless throat, praying to Azeyma to gift him the smallest amount of talent, but in the end the otherworldly screeching that was his singing in the Miqo'te language embarrassed and depressed him so thoroughly he barely harvested a handful of wheat that day.

"What is this now, Ven?"

Acidic disappointment dripped from his mother R'werhfia's lips as she stood in front of him, leather-wrapped feet planted angrily in the hard-baked dirt. "All day in the fields and you come back with this? A newborn kitten could pull more from the ground during a tantrum. This is a disgrace." Her upper lip curled in the familiar sneer R'yhuven loathed.

This was the moment he truly dread. Orange fabric fluttered past his downturned eyes, the sash at R'werhfia's waist denoting her status as mother of a tia, favored of the nunh who sired him and one of his close advisors. Three women in his clan of the R tribe held the distinction, and of them his mother was the least respected due to R'yhuven's stubborn refusal to learn to be a leader.

Where the other two Tias fought to be first in line, led the other kittens during games, and spoke up before any one else at school, R'yhuven loved to listen and serve, finding happiness in being at everyone's beck and call. That 'wasn't appropriate behavior for a young Tia', however, and since R'werhfia couldn't rein him in everyone in their clan accosted her daily for giving the tribe a weak male, which she in turn inflicted upon R'yhuven.

All he could do was try to explain his overflowing feelings in a likely futile attempt to avoid further scolding. "Momma, I-"

"Oh, there they are. And look at _that_!"

Mother and son jumped, startled by the group of women who had surrounded them without them noticing. One pointed to R'yhuven's meager bundle and immediately doubled over in laughter, the mocking gesture spreading to every onlooker. "Who are you feeding with that [nunhsuwn]? A baby aldgoat?" 

Another woman elbowed the first in her side. "That's his whole clan, a single baby aldgoat, because all the women ran away! My daughters would never follow such a pitiful man, would they [nunhsuwn]?"

The sun's rays had nothing on the heat scorching R'yhuven's self-esteem. [Nunhsuwn] meant 'useless nunh' in the Miqo'te language, an insult meant for an impotent or otherwise ineffective clan nunh. There was nowhere he could escape the moniker - adults hurled it his way constantly, and inevitably their children repeated it whether they understood its meaning or not. 'Nunh' meant absolutely nothing to R'yhuven, yet its definition insisted on ruining his life.

More sweat soaked into R'yhuven's fur - all he wanted now was to survive the day's insults, which struck particularly deep after the rare praise he had basked in for a month, and hide under his bed until the sun went down. "Hey Werfhia, has he tried learning how to make moles do tricks yet? Some other clan might find it amusing and toss him a few furs for the winter!"

This would be where R'werhfia usually joined in on the cruel fun. Today, however, orange fluttered past shaking, clenched fists. "Don't you all have anything better to do?" Her tail lashed as she growled. Every trace of laughter faded from the onlookers. The audience's attention firmly in her grasp, R'werhfia eased her stance to wave at them patronizingly. "You know, I've heard from Ailbrih that some of your bow strings don't pull as taut as they used to. And you know what they say…'a loose string feeds a weak tribe'."

"Ah…!!"

Dirt and dust were all the no-longer amused women left in their wake as they fled back to the clan village. Finally looking up, R'yhuven caught a rare sight - his mother's smirking face directed at someone who wasn't him. R'werhfia waited for their backs to disappear into the distance, sighed with the weight of the world, and knelt down to R'yhuven's level. He shrank back when she reached out to him, but her hands inevitably reached his cheeks and held fast. "It's too damn hot to have them huffing and puffing about. Anyway, what were you going to say Ven?"

"H…uh?"

Dark brown eyes exactly like his own held R'yhuven captive in a well of unexpected tenderness. Their family dynamic had been devoid of affection for much of R'yhuven's young life. Seeing it now, when the most inconsequentially important aspect of his small world had fallen apart, choked him with the emotions he hadn't gotten to set free before. "You may not do what is asked of you," thumbs gently rubbed R'yhuven's facial markings, a soothing gesture meant only for close relatives and intimate partners, "but my little Ven never fails to complete any task he takes on."

"I…" He started, tears falling at last, "I tried to sing with everyone for the first time today but it sounded _awful_! I worked so hard to learn all the words too…I just wanted to sound pretty like the grown-ups!"

"Hah…HAHAHA!!"

Renewed laughter was _not_ what R'yhuven needed, his heart immediately steeling itself, feeling foolish for believing for a second his mother would show true affection for him. Strong hands dropped to his waist and lifted him high into the sky, however, and he couldn't help but to laugh through them. "'Pretty' singing?" R'werhfia asked her now eye-level son. "You mean this?"

Something foul and lacking a name that could be pronounced by any living being came out of R'yhuven's mother. He recognized the opening words to a work song, but just like his her voice could strip paint from a building. Unconsciously R'yhuven's ears and tail withered, evoking more laughter. "Ven, _none_ of us can sing!"

R'werhfia hefted R'yhuven onto her shoulder. Instinctively he grabbed a handful of her hair and found it as sweat-laden as his, perhaps more so as she stood far taller than him. Part of him wanted to protest being closer to the sun on a day where it had no mercy, but would he give up the first positive mother-son development they had in at least a year? No - as a Seeker, he could endure it.

They slowly headed towards home, one of R'werhfia's bow-honed hands keeping her son on his perch. "How well one of us sings isn't the point. Like our ancestors it's impossible for a single Miqo'te to do it alone - to harvest the crops, to fell enough game, to teach all of you kittens…to run the clan and keep us safe." Here R'werhfia paused, inhaled what R'yhuven knew was criticism about how his behavior ran contrary to ensuring the clan's survival, and carried on. "So we sing together, and our voices weave around the others and strengthen them like the fibers of a bow string."

"That makes sense." _Exactly like when everyone harasses us at the same time too._ R'yhuven couldn't help thinking. "I should sing really loud tomorrow then?"

"Ven, be as loud as you want. Maybe then I won't be able to hear my own Azeyma-cursed screeching."

Her eyes cast up at R'yhuven's, glittering in merriment, and they broke out into giggles at themselves. There was so much the kitten wanted to ask, particularly why if their strength was in numbers was there one nunh in charge, and more importantly why did his mother's criticism hurt so much more than anyone else's, but he buried them deep how he had already trained himself to. Until they stepped in the village, where word of R'yhuven's poor harvest was sure to have earned him enough ridicule where his mother would slide back into her own coping mechanisms, they were family, and though it was only the two of them, for R'yhuven it was all he ever needed to feel strong.

\--

Crystal blue slowly phased back in. G'raha continued to snore resting against R'yhuven's shoulder, and R'yhuven himself felt physically the same as before his odd episode. If not for the vivid recollection of his interlude R'yhuven could have sworn it was simply one of his mind's random wanderings. "What _was_ that?"

[ _I believe Raha told us about it._ ] Luzen spoke up. [ _Remember when he said he spent the two hundred years sleeping living through fabricated lives, but also reliving memories? What if the Crystal Tower just did something similar for you, to help you find a song?_ ]

_That's not unreasonable, but how??_

The happy panel reappeared bearing more text. R'yhuven was absolutely _not_ touching it. What struck him as a prompt blinked patiently, likely wanting to know its job was complete, but he and his fragments couldn't be sure.

That was, until R'yhuven's mirror caught his attention. Pale blue light shimmered upward from its incomplete surface as R'yhuven pulled it from his bags with his free hand. _This? I thought this was made from part of the First's Crystal Tower?_

[ _But technically that is 'this' Tower Yhuven._ ] Maer scolded him. [ _So it isn't entirety unfeasible. Try focusing on finishing recalling your past into the mirror._ ]

R'yhuven did as he was told without argument. Additional words appeared after the prompt, and another cheery sound later the panel disappeared, staying gone this time. _Well…that was dangerous…_

With the immediate problem over G'raha became his focus again. Having betrayed his clan by running away to start his adventuring life, R'yhuven deemed himself unworthy of carrying on their oral traditions, and all but forgot the songs he had once loved. "But now look. Raha - you're the same as the Miqo'te who led our ancestors to Eorzea. Enduring so that others could make their way through a harsh and hostile world, and leaving them hope and the means to survive when you passed. You truly deserve to hear these…I just wish it wasn't from me."

As the opening notes to the first tale flowed from R'yhuven's reticent lips, thoughts of his mother occupied part of his mind. _Mom…I wish I could have told you before I left how much you sold yourself short. It's true that few people succeed at life without any help from others._

Tenderly, he stroked G'raha's cheek, hoping he'd see it puffed in childish frustration towards him soon. _But that doesn't mean you can never stand alone. The bow string may be wound from many strands, but it's the skill of the weaver and the archer who truly give them purpose. The student doesn't always have their teacher by their side, but in their heart and mind to guide their hand. Being able to use what you've learned to stand against the storm…that's also a form of strength. And maybe I'll see you again to teach you what I've learned, one day._


	11. At Memory's End - G'raha, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite knowing how his younger self would be, the Crystal Exarch couldn't help wanting to take him by the vest and throttle him into stopping for a moment to actually _listen_. Caution was warranted, of course, but the current line of questioning had nothing to do with trying to protect the Crystal Tower and everything to do with putting on a show of bravado. 
> 
> Disbelieving, but not distrustful, paired crimson eyes peered at the Exarch as if waiting for something, however. _His guard isn't 'entirely' up, meaning he's still more curious than he is defensive. Although nothing short of undeniable proof we're the same person is going to grant me the barest second of his ear. Thankfully there's an impartial third party available to help us. I'm so close…please, let me get through your stubbornness so I can make us both happy…_

Upon waking from his two hundred year slumber and combing through the Crystal Tower's functions, G'raha discovered a protocol that analyzed the Administrator's personality and showed them what would make them the most comfortable when a Suspend command was issued. For the eager, hero-worshipping man who closed the doors between himself and the world he knew without hesitation, those years played out in a mix of fond memories and dramatic fabrications of possible lives G'raha could have lived had he not sealed himself. Perhaps the protocol had no concept of the possible contradictions in its execution, or perhaps it honed in on them to take its master's mind off the magnanimity of his somewhat reckless sacrifice. However it was programmed, the multitudes of lives G'raha lived while he slumbered were all dear, if not exaggerated to suit his then preferences, recollections that he often revisited during the dark days after he awoke.

And he couldn't wait to replace them with real experiences so he never sought solace in them again.

In the scenario running now, one of G'raha's favorites, he and R'yhuven were famous adventurers. Doga and Unei resolved everything regarding the World of Darkness themselves and remained in the Crystal Tower, leaving G'raha unbound to it and able to roam freely about the world with R'yhuven doing as he pleased.

_Including this…_

"Oh please!" The normally shy yet demanding Miqo'te whose fur glistened like fresh cut garnet in the noonday sun begged his tall, dark, handsome, puissant lover, whose sizable rod eagerly rubbed between ass cheeks already slathered with cum. "Can't we just one more time? The treasure's been here for a few hundred years, it can wait a few more minutes…or hours, right?" He tantalizingly shook his firm globes, round and pink as the ripest peaches in Eorzea, exposed above trousers hastily ripped down the tail seam by R'yhuven's impatient hands (he always kept spares, knowing R'yhuven's proclivities), and arched into the scored and dripping bark of the tree already blessed by their clandestine coupling.

"It's been nine times Raha, my love," the deep, passionate voice that undressed every person they encountered with a single word but belonged to G'raha alone chuckled, "haven't you had enough?"

Contrary to his question R'yhuven lined up his massive, throbbing shaft, easily able to be mistaken for an errant limb in its length and girth at its full eagerness to conquer G'raha's well-trained and used hole, with the only place able to satisfy him and-

As the G'raha who had lived as R'yhuven's partner for several months, not to mention the trials he had experienced in his final day as the Crystal Exarch, that he'd arrived back at his body at such an inopportune moment had him slowly palming his tired forehead. "That's enough of that. Tower Control, pause simulation through Administrative Override, remove all actors, and for the Gods' sake…reset the Administrator's attire…"

" _Simulation Administrative Override and parameters acknowledged. All Syrcus Tower processes remain on standby except exterior defense systems and Administrator Simulation Routine._ "

The R'yhuven from the scene vanished. Back in his archer's armor the present G'raha dropped face-first to the ground facing away from his future self, yelping in embarrassment. "Did someone wake up the Tower??" He asked still in a daze, unconsciously going to rub his bottom before switching to his face. "How long has it been? And who is it?"

The Crystal Exarch sighed. "Not quite. Two years. And no one you might expect."

G'raha whipped around so hard his ears took an extra second to catch up, shooting to full attention once he looked his Exarch self, who appeared as he did before creating the soul vessels, up and down. "Are you some kind of interface?" He waved his tail, thoroughly puzzled. "I've never seen one replicate a person yet, let alone…me?"

"No, I am not-hey!"

A crimson blur danced about the Exarch, pulling and tugging at everything he could access with a scholar's curious eye - robes, hair, staff, ears - before finally grabbing his right arm, still holding the staff, and feeling along the crystal as if it wasn't attached to a living being. "Do you _mind_? As I attempted to say, I am not a creation of the Tower, I am-"

"I refuse to believe you're me!" The frustrated denial hissed from underneath the Exarch's arm where G'raha now rested on all fours. "Only your face and height are the same. Your voice isn't right at all. I don't even know how you have crystal running through you. It doesn't make a single bit of sense unless you're some kind of invader trying to trick me into waking up, in which case you'll be _very_ disappointed." 

Despite knowing how his younger self would be, the Crystal Exarch couldn't help wanting to take him by the vest and throttle him into stopping for a moment to actually _listen_. Caution was warranted, of course, but the current line of questioning had nothing to do with trying to protect the Crystal Tower and everything to do with putting on a show of bravado. 

Disbelieving, but not distrustful, paired crimson eyes peered at the Exarch as if waiting for something, however. _His guard isn't 'entirely' up, meaning he's still more curious than he is defensive. Although nothing short of undeniable proof we're the same person is going to grant me the barest second of his ear. Thankfully there's an impartial third party available to help us. I'm so close…please, let me get through your stubbornness so I can make us both happy…_

\--

"Since my ability to perform Administrative functions isn't sufficient to appease you, and I am personally aware of how appealing to your memory is an unreliable indicator of my identity, shall we have the only one among us incapable of telling lies confirm I am indeed you?"

Not waiting for an answer, the Exarch soundly tapped his staff to the ground close by G'raha's ear, ensuring he had his younger self's attention. "Tower Control, please state my identity."

" _G'raha Tia, current Administrator of Syrcus Tower._ "

"And how many people with the identity of G'raha Tia are within the Tower right now?"

" _Two._ "

Taking an unsteady breath, he issued his next question. "And of those two G'raha Tias, how many possess physical forms?"

" _There is one G'raha Tia physically present within Syrcus Tower._ *

"Wait…what?" Now G'raha stood beside his future counterpart, one thoughtful hand to his chin. "Tower Control how many physical humans are here right now?"

" _There are two humans physically present within Syrcus Tower._ "

His ears shot up. "Then who-"

"Cancel that request!" The Exarch quickly shouted. _If he finds out Yhuven's here he'll be so distracted we won't get to properly talk._ "It is enough for you to know that you are safe with them, safer even than this Tower could keep you. Would that they truly meant you harm you would already _be_ harmed, regardless of the protections you set up."

Wanting to feel R'yhuven's arms around him again briefly distracted the Exarch, tempering his mounting frustration though the grip on his staff tightened, grounding him. "Listen to me, G'raha Tia. Had I wished to trick you into awakening none of this would be occurring. Another member of NOAH desperately begging for your aid would have you flying from this place in a heartbeat, recklessly using your newfound ability to manipulate aether granted by the alterations performed on you once you sealed yourself to vanquish your foes."

"…" Embarrassed, G'raha clasped his hands and fidgeted.

"Yet I present myself like this, a confusing imitation of you that immediately invokes skepticism. As you just heard I have no body. All that I am is laid bare before you - memories and a soul, nothing more remains. My life has reached its end, and with its dying flame, at the end of memory, I have been brought to you to fulfill the wish what weighed so heavy on your heart you froze yourself within a crystal tomb to deny it the power to send you running back through the doors to the Find."

"That's-!"

Confidently, the Crystal Exarch took both of his startled younger self's hands, gripping them firmly yet reassuringly. "Memories can be read, stored, tampered with. But emotions, hopes, dreams, wishes…regrets - these reside deep within the soul, and the soul alone. That adventure you wished to go on? It's waiting for you, out there where you belong. Because you have fulfilled your mission…you have used the Crystal Tower to bring the light of hope to this world and all the others, and now, you are free."

"Free…?" A single tear from eyes wide with unspoken desire rolled down G'raha's cheek. "Truly, I believe you now, but how? And how did you…did I…come to be in such a state?"

The Exarch fought to suppress a triumphant shout, placing G'raha's hands atop his head. "As I said, I am but memories and a soul. You may delve into both for the answers you seek. Being the same person you should be able to review them in short order."

"No."

Pausing the simulation also halted the time. Throughout their conversation the sun had remained overhead, casting muted light filtered through the canopy across G'raha's face. The same face which now illuminated with its own light, cheeks puffed and eyes drawn closed in a roguish grin that allayed the Exarch's fear. "If you're me then you know what I want!"

"Hah, of course."

In a tap of his staff the Exarch switched the environment. When G'raha next blinked open his eyes he found himself seated in the Umbilicus as it was on the First, full of haphazardly scattered piles of tomes pulled from the Tower's many libraries. His gaze fell across them all, fingers clenching in the burning need to crack open their pages that had led his future self to create the piles in the first place, and finally lit upon the mirror, the true reason they were here. "A story, then."

Twin sets of royal crimson held each other in warm regard, the right answer given. "A story of how a great hero crossed time and space to save all known worlds from destruction, and how, bearing the weight of history and the fate of this star, you embarked on your own journey to pave the road that would let such a miracle, and many more, come to pass."


	12. At Memory's End - G'raha, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hand flew up to G'raha's mouth, cheeks darkening in self-admonishment as his head turned slightly away from the mirror and its dire imagery. "Forgive me. Cid is a paragon among paragons in his engineering prowess, yet surely even _he_ could not simply conjure up a way to travel through time, Allagan technology or not." His tail sank, accented by a thoughtful frown. "I had imagined a divine intervention by some god, perhaps Hydaelyn herself granted you a blessing only one tied to the Crystal Tower could withstand, which you then used to bring a hero with you so you could fight alongside them. This seems so…" Once more G'raha waved his hands dramatically.
> 
> "Well…maybe WE weren't blessed…" The Exarch sighed softly under his breath, then cleared his throat. "I never said I was immediately convinced. You see..."

"'Time and space'…"

Fully alert, G'raha focused intently on the Crystal Exarch as he stood by the mirror. "We saw the Tower's ability to open portals across space when we traveled to the World of Darkness. But time? Surely that isn't a feature of the Tower. Xande would never have resorted to a pact with demons if he thought he could go back and 'fix' the Allagan Empire. More importantly, what led you to make such a journey to begin with?"

His eyes cast downward before the Exarch could reply. "Wait, I know. Nothing pleasant woke you, did it?"

"Will _I_ get to tell this story or not G'raha?"

"I can't help it...this is exciting and terrifying. Seeing you makes my heart want to leap from my chest, but you have such an air of…"

G'raha waved his hands in an indescribable gesture. " _Exhaustion_. Even when excited, your whole demeanor exudes tiredness. And I can't imagine what would ever make me that way, especially if I had accomplished something so remarkable - a once-in-a-lifetime experience worthy of a hero!"

Watching his younger self repeat the same naive sentiment he had upon hearing about the Ironworks' plans a hundred years prior, G'raha's tail wagging in identical fervor that threatened to unseat him, proved so surreal the Exarch had to calm himself with a measured breath. "Tired does not begin to describe it."

Placing one hand briefly to the mirror, granting it access to reflect his memory while he explained, he drew another and dove in. "I was awakened two hundred years after the sealing. Had I not been made aware of the time passed by the Tower I could have mistaken it for two days - the Roegadyn who stood before me was the spitting image of Biggs, bearing the markings of the Ironworks. Several other Ironworks engineers formed his entourage, and upon seeing me wake they celebrated so earnestly I surged forward, full of questions about the new, wonderful world I found myself in that was ready to wield the legacy of the Allag for good."

"Instead…" A pause, heavy with the aforementioned exhaustion. "They informed me of the true state of affairs: two years after entering the Tower the Eighth Umbral Calamity struck Hydaelyn."

"WHAT??" G'raha leapt from his seat, nearly sending his chair clattering to the floor in his haste. "That can't be!! Not only would that put but seven years since the Seventh it also means-!"

"Be at peace. No Calamity has passed in this time, nor will it. _That is why I am here!_ "

Unable to contain his annoyance any longer the Exarch slammed his staff on the floor, the cacophony of vibrating metal against crystal a tried and true tactic for regaining control of unruly situations.

The younger G'raha earned points for remaining standing while covering his ears, but fell silent as intended. "In any event, the Eighth Umbral Calamity would be like no other. Triggered by a war between the Eorzean Alliance and the Garlean Empire, the whole of Eorzea and beyond would be laid to waste by the Garlean deployment of a chemical agent named 'Black Rose' when the tide began to turn in the Alliance's favor."

Images on the mirror further stilled G'raha's tongue as the Exarch's explanation continued. "Black Rose halted the aether of its target, killing them instantly. But the agent proved too potent and spread across the land leaving devastation in its wake. Gradually it seeped into the soil, either rendering the land barren or the bounty it yielded poisonous, and the loss of flora and fauna combined with the human losses already suffered led to a barren, lawless world at its brink two hundred years later."

"Thus Biggs the Third, then leader of the Ironworks, awakened me with a proposal. After the Calamity Cid devoted the rest of his life to researching why it was so catastrophic and how to bring it to a halt, ultimately coming to the conclusion there was nothing to be done - Black Rose's handiwork was irreversible. The only way to recover from the Eighth Umbral Calamity would be to see it unwound from the very skein of time, preventing it from ever tainting this star's tapestry. He left to his successors theories on how such an impossible task could be undertaken, should they believe what surely seemed the insane ramblings of a desperate man, and while they would become the Ironworks' final hope they required one crucial element to be even slightly feasible - the Crystal Tower."

"Wha-" Sputtering, G'raha rediscovered his voice, though his ears lowered in anger. "Knowing the Tower itself _cannot do that_ , what exactly did the Ironworks want? To wake you so you could share in this nightmare and somehow hand them the means by which to actually _accomplish_ this madness??"

A hand flew up to G'raha's mouth, cheeks darkening in self-admonishment as his head turned slightly away from the mirror and its dire imagery. "Forgive me. Cid is a paragon among paragons in his engineering prowess, yet surely even _he_ could not simply conjure up a way to travel through time, Allagan technology or not." His tail sank, accented by a thoughtful frown. "I had imagined a divine intervention by some god, perhaps Hydaelyn herself granted you a blessing only one tied to the Crystal Tower could withstand, which you then used to bring a hero with you so you could fight alongside them. This seems so…" Once more G'raha waved his hands dramatically.

"Well…maybe WE weren't blessed…" The Exarch sighed softly under his breath, then cleared his throat. "I never said I was immediately convinced. You see..."

\--

_The Eighth Umbral Calamity. How unthinkable. How…demoralizing. Where is the bright, vibrant society I was to bring hope to? The people who worked hard to rise above petty differences and usher in an age ready to receive the blessings of Allagan knowledge with wide, welcoming arms? This…_

"Are you alright Sir G'raha?" Came the concerned voice of Biggs the Third. He and the engineers who accompanied him to the throne room stood a cautious distance from the newly awakened Administrator.

"Yes, merely a side effect of my stasis, nothing more." Bitter, sour saliva mixed with traces of aether coated G'raha's lying tongue. Upon issuing the Suspend command the Crystal Tower quickly began to alter his physical form, repurposing much of his physiology to increase his ability to channel aether and create a permanent bond with the Tower. One area greatly affected was his digestive system - his stomach no longer processed food as a normal human's would, instead converting it into aether.

Thus, when hearing that the world that he now stood in had gone horribly _wrong_ , rather than vomit his last two-year old meal across Biggs' shoes as he would have before, G'raha was merely left dry-heaving, doubled over on the ground in various forms of anguish he refused to admit. _What do I do…no…_

He allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and clear his thoughts, secure in the belief his visitors would think it part of his recovery. Aether-laden air filled his lungs, still tainted by the tragedies suffered by Mor Dhona during the last Calamity. In his past life he'd grown used to it living at Saint Coinach's Find. That life was what G'raha needed now - another breath, and his memories brought him there. _What would Yhuven do?_

His hero. The man who single-handedly forged a path through the Labyrinth of the Ancients and Syrcus Tower, slew the resurrected millennia-old first emperor of the Allagan Empire and his subordinates, then delved into the void to fight the Cloud of Darkness and save the world from being consumed. Nothing like the serious, stoic heroes who leapt from the pages of rare storybooks lovingly acquired from traders by G'raha's parents in his youth, or the intelligent, tactically-minded heroes of Sharlayan tomes snuck from library shelves into quiet corners in his teenage years, the man designated "Warrior of Light" of Eorzea shone uniquely in his brand of heroism. Quick to laugh, terrible at any subject that wasn't music or archery, easily flustered into rambling incoherence - while G'raha acknowledged R'yhuven's superior battle acumen, the more he learned about the other Miqo'te, the more he questioned his lifelong beliefs about what made a hero.

_"All the situations I've been in where I probably should have died, all I could think about was the people relying on me. If I didn't do it everyone would die alongside me. That thought lights a fire inside me. It sets my soul ablaze. It lets me go beyond any normal limits. And it just keeps burning until I've won."_

Little did G'raha know at the time when R'yhuven offered these words on his being the Warrior of Light, he actually considered them, his honest thoughts on the matter, incredibly embarrassing. But R'yhuven's undeniable honesty in all he did, and the lessons he imparted to G'raha during their stolen evenings together, would reshape G'raha's fundamental concepts of heroism and courage.

From the moment the color drained from R'yhuven's face as G'raha voiced the stirrings of his Allagan-imparted blood, to the desperate looks constantly cast G'raha's way as they fought side by side through the World of Darkness past creatures G'raha could never have imagined in his deepest nightmares, he would eventually learn his final lesson: the most courageous of heroes did not eschew fear - they acted despite it. And carrying every word and experience close to his heart allowed G'raha to make his choice those two hundred years ago.

G'raha cast his eyes back upon the world he now lived in, swallowed the distaste of his deception, and rose to his feet with his fears close at heart. "How can I help?"

Biggs' eyes brightened. "I'll get straight to the point - we need you to take the Crystal Tower back in time to another world and prevent the Calamity from ever happening."

"No, I don't think I will."

Color and hope drained from the engineers' faces as G'raha turned his back on them, folding his arms, his jaw painfully set. Swallowing his fears for the greater good? Throwing himself into the fray to potentially change the tide of battle? Visiting yet another world? He would do those things gladly. But time? Even the Allagans, in all their research and technology, had never breached the barriers of time. And no amount of heroism could change that.

Hope had slipped from his grasp as well.

"B-but, Sir G'raha! It's the only way!"

" _No._ "

Slight ground shaking accompanied G'raha's second refusal. "If you would like access to the wealth of knowledge stored throughout the Tower I would be happy to oblige. Any of its functions are at your disposal through me. And I will gladly work to my dying breath to usher in the Eighth Astral Era. But I will _not_ entertain the mad notion of disturbing time - I could not, even if I wanted."

If the sign of G'raha's displeasure intimidated Biggs he didn't let it show. "There won't be an Eighth Astral Era."

Tiny and weak in contrast to before, Biggs' voice barely reached G'raha's ears. The Administrator turned slightly on one foot, thinking he didn't hear correctly, and taking the motion as interest Biggs pressed on. "The world's aether has been devastated beyond repair. Plants either refuse to grow or are poison. All of Eorzea's civilizations were lost early on. Even the Garleans' ceruleum quickly failed them and their Empire. There are no rules now, no society. Only survival. And we're barely surviving."

Returning to his slumber grew more appealing the more G'raha heard. "I'm even less sure what you thought to gain from waking me now. Say that you are correct - that this Umbral Calamity will be Hydaelyn's last. I have no solution to hand you, nor any information to try to begin working towards one." Fears cast into the bottomless well of despair G'raha thought to drown in, he started for the throne to issue a final command to the Crystal Tower. "I am sorry."

"Wait! We didn't wake you and ask you this with nothing to show - look!!"

Only the fluttering of paper coerced G'raha into obeying. A solid sheaf of writing, mostly yellowed in the telltale sign of years of handling, waved in Biggs' hand from a satchel G'raha hadn't noticed previously. "Since the Calamity we've been working on how to do it, using Cid's theories!"

"Cid…?" Some of the color cautiously returned to G'raha's bleak outlook. "The Cid I knew?" A nod, and it grew brighter still. "Even his genius cannot invent time travel, yet…"

Glimpses of diagrams, of notes carefully written, rewritten, loved, and hated over two hundred years, drew G'raha to Biggs as a siren's song. Before he knew it there was no distance between them, and without being asked Biggs handed it all over. "It's a long shot still. But it's the only shot we have. _Please_."

The inner flame G'raha had let dim suddenly roared back to life at Biggs' plea. Grasping the world's final hope in his hands and in his reinvigorated heart, he exhaled long and slow, then looked to the well-worn paper and learned to breathe again. _I understand you now, Yhuven. I understand._

"I'll leave it to you to fully explain then." Ears and tail held high, G'raha faced the Ironworks engineers with the zeal he was renowned for. For a moment they didn't seem to believe him.

So G'raha gave them the most enthusiastic thumbs up of his life.

The second round of cheering for the day sat well in his ears. "You won't regret this, I promise!" Biggs offered through a whooping holler and cheerful leap into the air.

G'raha knew he wouldn't. His tail danced about in equally eager joy. _A journey through time and space to save the entire world - a once-in-a-lifetime experience worthy of a hero! I can do it…I 'will' do it! You'd better be watching me Yhuven!_

\--

"Oh."

"Exactly."

The memory faded from the mirror, leaving a thoughtful younger G'raha in its wake. "So what was in Cid's notes that made crossing time possible? And, what other world did you need to travel to that could save this one?"

Eyes narrowed, the Exarch raised his staff threateningly. "Sorry, I'm sorry!" G'raha ducked and cringed, preemptively covering his ears.

"Thank you." Keeping the amusement out of his demeanor was harder for the Exarch than he wanted to admit. "Cid would encounter two entities that fueled his theories: the time-traveling primal Alexander, and the Rift-traveling weapon Omega. You should be familiar with the second."

"Right. Omega is what the Allagans based most of their technology on…the reason we can be here, now." The Miqo'te exchanged solemn nods. "But a primal that can cross time - now it makes sense."

"More, yes. That leaves the final piece."

The Exarch's staff tapped to the floor, not in reprimand but to change the scenery. They stood in the Ocular now, and with a wave of his hand the Exarch launched into the same projection and explanation on the reflections of the Source he did for R'yhuven upon his arrival to the First. He watched G'raha's expression transform from awed to horrified in short order.

By the time everything had been fully relayed little color was left in the young Miqo'te's cheeks. "The burden of this knowledge…the time and effort needed to unravel the fundamental workings of a primal, an otherworldly weapon, and this twisted system of the Source, its shards, and the Ascians. It would be impossible for me to simply let it go to waste without trying."

"And so it was." In a flash they returned to the Umbilicus to resume viewing the Exarch's memories. "For two years the Ironworks labored to complete the necessary alterations to Syrcus Tower. It was grueling, dangerous work that saw many sacrifice their lives for my sake, for the sake of a future they knew none of them would see, thus they had nothing to lose. But I would not stand by idly either."

The crystalline fingers of his right hand, deceptively flexible despite appearances, drummed absently against his staff. "Not only did I venture out to pursue knowledge of the current state of the world," the Exarch conveniently his meaning vague, "I also delved heavily into the innermost workings of the Tower to provide aid for the modifications, as well as find the solution to a pressing issue."

G'raha sat up straight without interjecting, his lesson clearly learned. Crimson hair ran through the Exarch's fingers as he combed it with his free hand, a short burst of air puffing from briefly pursed, contemplative lips. "There was a prevailing theory that, due to the nature of the shards and the Rift, it was highly likely time flowed differently between the Source and its reflections. Upon my arrival in the First I could have days or years to assess the situation and determine how to prevent the First's Rejoining. To negate the impact of this variable I made an irreversible decision - merging with the Tower using my capacity as its Administrator, extending my life so that I would survive no matter how long it took. This also brought the benefit of low level access to the Tower's systems, allowing me direct control over many of its functions. For a price."

"This." Flesh touched to crystal with far more reverence than earlier. This time G'raha stepped in close, hands gently smoothing along his older self's neck, shoulders, and right arm through the robes, and the Exarch mentally gave thanks it didn't have the same effect as when R'yhuven did the same. "The aether expended by the Tower crystalizes in a specific way, leading to its signature appearance. If you became one with its energies then you too would…"

For the second time in short order a cascade of emotion crossed G'raha's face. Growing paler than before he stepped back, letting the cloth fall from his grasp. " _You have no body._ " Sorrow briefly touched his eyes, but was quickly chased out. "Yet you also made it here."

He snapped his fingers excitedly. "Ah! And I now know why you needed a hero! I was wondering why I couldn't just save the First myself, especially with what I can do now! Although…umm..." G'raha wilted, clearly wanting to say more.

"Go on. I will allow it."

"R-right! Being merged with the Tower would also make you wholly dependent on it. You'd be able to personally tap into its immense power, but you wouldn't be able to travel very far away from it. Not knowing what awaited you on the First, it would be beyond foolhardy to bring all your battles to your lifeline, if you even could. A hero whom you could support while they traveled freely, however, would work perfectly."

His tail swished eagerly, the question G'raha had wanted to ask since their exchange began ready to dance off his barely restrained lips. _I suppose I can tell him now - he's too invested in my recollections to run off recklessly._ "A hero _would_ work perfectly."

Focusing, the Exarch made sure the mirror didn't ruin the surprise early. "The Ironworks had a suggestion, though they allotted me the ability to select whomever I wished from among those alive during the proper point in time. Once my roaming came to an end, however, I agreed with their choice, for it was truly the only one. Cid had also endorsed them - in fact, it was through offering his theories as a way to prevent this hero's death that so many would take them up in his time and beyond, rather than resent the concept of abandoning their world."

"They must be an exceptional person!" G'raha's tail was a blur, his ears at full attention. "Who did you bring?"

Bittersweet memories of a legacy pieced together through the Eighth Umbral Calamity's cracked lens carried along the Exarch's words. "The hero who slew the great wyrm Nidhogg, not as an act of war, but one of peace, bringing an end to the Dragonsong War and restoring the broken bonds between the people of Ishgard and the dragons they once lived alongside."

"The hero who ventured deep into the mechanical primal, Alexander, helping unravel the mysteries of its time-traveling abilities and preventing the Goblin Illuminati from using it to reshape the world to their whims."

"The hero who paved the way to liberating Ala Mhigo, lending their aid to the Ala Mhigan Resistance and freeing them from twenty grueling years of Garlean rule."

"The hero who then turned their sights to Othard, liberating the land of Doma from twenty-five years of Garlean occupation by becoming khagan of the Azim Steppe, leading the Xaela tribes who would call it their home to rally alongside the Doman Liberation Front."

"The hero who fought through the relentless gauntlet presented by the mechanical weapon Omega, withstanding its tests to protect Eorzea from destruction at the hands of its creations while proving the limitless potential and vibrancy of those given life."

"This hero…" Without realizing it a fond smile had taken up residence on the Exarch's face. As he voiced R'yhuven's accomplishments they reminded him once more of how different the man who returned from traveling the world had been from the one who left. "Who fought against travelers from another Shard brought here by Ascians, thus providing the basis for all three of Cid's fundamental theories. Their legacy so guided the course of this land that two hundred years later, songs of their deeds bolstered weary hearts gathered about campfires, and tales of their heroism inspired survivors to fight tooth and nail to preserve the homes and settlements they managed to carve out of the Calamity's remains."

In a moment of weakness, he allowed images of the tomb where he first wept at the beautiful words carved outside, then again at placing his hands on the stone coffin holding the remains of the man who hadn't known his love, yet had so many others', to appear before G'raha. "But, before all that…"

Heat blossomed across the Exarch's cheeks, coloring them red around the encroaching swath of crystal. It prompted a small gasp of surprise from his younger self, who until then had been fully engrossed in the story. The staff rested cool against his palm, providing an anchor for the older Miqo'te's now distracted mind. "He ran nighttime errands for a naive, overzealous researcher of ancient Allag, teaching them more about themselves than a lifetime of study ever could. Oh, and somewhere in there he may have explored the Crystal Tower and fought through the World of Darkness."

"No…" Gasping for air, G'raha fell into the Exarch. One hand clutched at robes, twisting hard into the cloth. The other dug into the armor over his heart. Misty eyes overflowing with love caught and held the Exarch's, drawing him into the same state at last. "Yhuven? Your great hero is _our_ Yhuven??"

He didn't wait for an answer. "Tower Control!" Shouted much louder than necessary, "is the other physical presence in Syrcus Tower R'yhuven Tia?"

" _Affirmative._ "

"Show me what he's doing right now!"

Both Miqo'te took in the new image displayed on the mirror. R'yhuven sat on the throne room floor not far from G'raha's former resting place, gently cradling the sleeping man to his chest while keeping the soul vessel in his hand. "It's him, it's really him!" G'raha sobbed happily. "He's so close, just like the last night we spent together. But, he looks more…"

"Chiseled." The Exarch grinned despite himself. "Not long after we parted ways he took up the Paladin's mantle to fight his battles."

His younger self's eyes said "I could lose myself in those peaks and that valley forever", a sentiment they shared. "My adventure will be alongside him? How I wish I was awake - oh?"

Two crimson tails puffed in shock as they watched R'yhuven gently caress their cheek lovingly, close his eyes, and begin to sing in the Miqo'te language. "Is this…for us?" Carefully, G'raha stroked along the image as though the mirror might break under the weight of his affection. "He always said he couldn't sing but his voice is nice. Not as exceptional as ours-"

"Definitely not."

"-but I would gladly listen to him any time. Certainly not the 'bleating of dying sheep' he once compared it to." 

A sweeping tale of the Miqo'te migration during the Third Umbral Era only added to G'raha's out of control sniffling and crying. "I feel as though I'm seeing what I want most…perhaps due to the simulations…but he…"

His lips quivered, caught on the cusp of his thoughts. The Exarch brought his left arm up in a reassuring embrace, ignoring his own tears of joy. In his grasp the person he once remembered only in fleeting dreams trembled a few heartbeats longer, then sighed and collected himself. "I'm sorry. What I tried to say was, Yhuven seems as though he really loves me."

"You need not doubt yourself. He does."

G'raha stiffened, speechless, leaving the Exarch to fill in the void. "It took time to form, but he and I enjoyed a very active relationship on the First."

"S-so…" Came a timid, sad reply. "He loves _you_ then, not me."

"You could not be more wrong." A few pats to the back eased G'raha's apprehension. The mirror grew quiet at the Exarch's silent request as he guided the other Miqo'te back to his chair. "He loved us well before we parted ways, same as we did. You will want to sit for what I need to impart to you next, however."

Thankfully no further urging was needed, because the Exarch wasn't looking forward to his next few revelations. Never having felt the stirrings of tender affection before meeting R'yhuven, he hadn't been prepared for how truly fragile-hearted he was when it came to love. _Such ugly bitterness I carried for a hundred years, though I thought it dead and buried. He deserves the truth…I only hope I can guide him through the same squall I weathered to true understanding._

Solemnly, he knelt before the cautiously seated figure. "There is much I need to tell you about R'yhuven Tia - the _real_ R'yhuven Tia, not the man who came to us at the Find. And knowing what you do now I need you to be stronger than I upon hearing it, for your own sake."


	13. At Memory's End - G'raha, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching himself fall apart a second time wounded the older G'raha in a way he couldn't put into words. Red-faced, trembling, seething hatred and pain through hot tears that scoured broken paths down his aching cheeks - he remembered his version of the moment in unnatural clarity, but the near-mirror reaction before him hurt in a different way. "'Friend'?" G'raha kept on though his voice wavered. "How happy I was to think I could be friends with a hero! That he found me worthy to spend time by his side, to laugh in the same breath, to have his respect. But HE didn't think so at all! To him I was just…just…"
> 
> "'Just a child. My rawest wound, knifed deeper by the person I most admired. How much did he delight in watching me chase the edges of his Goddess-gifted raiments as a suckling kitten? How rotten the sweet taste of a kiss becomes when stolen from deceitful lips.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going much further into pre-ShB G'raha but that's okay right? I also know absolutely nothing about sword fighting - it just made for a cute moment :)

G'raha planted his feet firmly against the floor, his fingers lacing together securely. "I'll try."

"Mind you, I will not be revealing any dark facets of his personality. I honestly believe we have more of those than Yhuven ever could."

"I can't disagree..."

The reply came with a briefly contemplative, far away gaze, as the Exarch knew it would. "Good. As R'yhuven would be my champion, the goal of my aforementioned research was to discover all I could about him. By studying his life I would best know how to support him, and honestly," here he stopped to cough while looking off to the side, "we would never pass up the chance to learn more about him no matter the circumstances."

"No, we wouldn't." Laughing nervously, G'raha cupped his hands around one of his knees. "Clearly."

His older counterpart chuckled as he stood, using his staff to help himself up. "It proved effortless to find records of Yhuven's heroic deeds, though two hundred years had polished them to an exaggerated finish. In the remains of Gridania, however, I would stumble across multiple documents that spun the tale of the man beneath the Warrior of Light - a man who existed years before whom he fought to keep separate from the moniker."

A pause. "Do you remember the nighttime performances?"

G'raha balked at the blunt question. "Of course! How could I not?" Ears straight up, he motioned curiously. "Why would you ask such an odd thing?"

Another round of embarrassment set the Exarch's face ablaze. "Because each one of them was worth a small fortune."

"Wait, come again?"

"While he does perform publicly in Gridania as he mentioned to us, the richest denizens of Ul'dah must reach deep into their coffers merely to catch his attention. Among Eorzean high society Yhuven's gift for plucking strings is renowned as legendary, so much so he dictates the times and places he chooses to display it as he sees fit along with commanding a hefty fee."

Bright garnet peered up at the Exarch. "You're telling me, _that_ man is rich and famous? And spends his time among the…upper class…"

The gears wildly turning in G'raha's head visibly came to a screeching halt. "All those gifts he brought us…they were no ordinary fare, were they??"

"Some of it was legitimately given to him as payment," the Exarch laughed, "but most of it was indeed acquired from the finest patisseries in Eorzea. In particular, the lemon cake comes from the Bismarck, Eorzea's culinary jewel, and is specially made by their head baker from a lemon cultivar only they possess. Few people are ever in the same room as a slice of it, not to mention having the opportunity to taste it."

"Then there is this." In a subtle wave of the Exarch's left hand the cherished scent of sandalwood and rose enveloped the two Miqo'te. Nostalgic bliss spread across G'raha's face as it filled his sensitive nostrils. "We never questioned how, if the soap and oil used that night was a reward, he always managed to have more. That was actually a lie, leveraging our admiration of him to lure us into bathing. Yhuven had the blend crafted by the same perfumer who created his personal perfume. Both are one of a kind, tailored specially for their wearer."

G'raha flipped his tail into his lap, worrying the fur at its tip as a distraction. "Given our stubbornness I can understand why he might have kept that particular detail a secret. All of it, really. Though…ahh…" Now his cheeks darkened, a small crimson tuft pulled free by flustered fingers floating to the floor. "None of this seems particularly egregious - more like how a coy lover might behave."

"Not by itself, no. I drew the same conclusion myself at first." Some of G'raha's happiness faded at his older self's tone, and the Exarch hated himself for it. "He also peddled mistruths about being the Warrior of Light."

Before the question could leave G'raha's lips a raised hand stopped him. "That the title belongs to him is not in dispute. What it entails is. This is partially not his fault - as would be discovered later, the terms 'hero' and 'Warrior of Light' have grown interchangeable over time, even across worlds. And while they often overlap, there is one characteristic that sets them apart: a blessing from Hydaelyn herself."

The Exarch thought back to their first night bathing together with R'yhuven, a recollection made easier by the scent lingering in the air. "Remember when we asked how Yhuven had no scars and he claimed it was skill? Another lie. The blessing conveys many benefits, one being the ability to heal wounds over time. It also erases all physical traces of their presence."

"So some of the feats he performed...I couldn't have trained so I could do the same…?" A booted foot kicked at the floor, its owner sulking slightly. "And he actually has a blessing, huh…I suppose it _is_ rather amazing, and a perfect reason to have him by your side."

His unspoken thought lingered foul in the air, to which the Exarch inclined his head to show his understanding but said nothing of it. _One more G'raha…just one more._ "Lastly-"

"Thank the Gods…"

"-one of my final discoveries in the remains of Gridania was a peculiar series of books titled _The Loves and Lives of the Warrior of Light_."

G'raha stiffened. Ears usually animated in some small way went completely still, even the left they often internally lamented always betraying their thoughts frozen in apprehension. "A set of four, the books sought to outline R'yhuven's day to day life separate from his heroic acts. They were penned by his current partner, Muirenval Lorysian, and very explicitly outline personal details about him, particularly the ease with which he shares his wealth, his friendship, and…his body."

"His…his…" The temperature in the room seemed to drop the longer G'raha sat narrow-eyed, gripping the edge of the chair in equal parts raging fury and crushing anguish. "Body, _easily_? Yet all those nights… _that_ night! For everything we shared, all he ever truly fed me was lies!"

Watching himself fall apart a second time wounded the older G'raha in a way he couldn't put into words. Red-faced, trembling, seething hatred and pain through hot tears that scoured broken paths down his aching cheeks - he remembered his version of the moment in unnatural clarity, but the near-mirror reaction before him hurt in a different way. "'Friend'?" G'raha kept on though his voice wavered. "How happy I was to think I could be friends with a hero! That he found me worthy to spend time by his side, to laugh in the same breath, to have his respect. But HE didn't think so at all! To him I was just…just…"

"'Just a child. My rawest wound, knifed deeper by the person I most admired. How much did he delight in watching me chase the edges of his Goddess-gifted raiments as a suckling kitten? How rotten the sweet taste of a kiss becomes when stolen from deceitful lips.'"

Hearing his internal dialogue turned outward set the distraught Miqo'te back in motion. "Easily forgiving what he's done is not something I feel I'm capable of." Determination loosened G'raha's limbs, freeing him to take his head in hand and rub away the visible evidence of his stumble. "But you said he loved us 'before' we left him. This is what you meant, isn't it? Think, G'raha!"

He clapped the sides of his face once, then laughed genuinely with a sniffle. "Was traveling two hundred years into the past enough to convince him you could be mature? Upon meeting you must have had a massive fight in which you both passionately confessed your love, then fell upon each other for the rest of the day and night?"

"Those Allagan romance novels are truly something." The Exarch matched the laugh. "We have fought, and indeed a good amount of our time together was spent in carnal pleasures." To this G'raha's tail puffed and rose towards the ceiling. "Having to prove my adulthood to him was not necessary, however."

While G'raha attempted to rein in his fur the mirror reactivated. "As the modifications to the Tower progressed I would discover I had nothing to prove, but much to learn."

\--

Twenty engineers sat at the elaborate planning table. Syrcus Tower held a plethora of rooms serving different purposes - finding a meeting space large enough to serve the Ironworks' needs proved simple, though gaudy.

G'raha felt he was living and breathing these status meetings, always held with the engineers, himself, and Biggs at intervals during the day. At the moment their most pressing topic was materials, and the manufacturing thereof. By their estimates the modifications needed for the Tower would require finished material production at a capacity far beyond what the available facilities and raw materials left in Eorzea could support if they wished to finish in their lifetimes.

With G'raha's help they turned to the Crystal Tower's ability to replicate matter from aether for production instead, and the bulk of the Ironworks remained focused on finalizing their blueprints, assembling the base units needed for the intricately complex systems they had designed, and testing them thoroughly before their eventual integration into the Tower. Crews of hundreds worked day and night, all of Hydaelyn's remaining population seemingly concentrated in Mor Dhona to assist in the effort.

Midway through G'raha's fifth report on magnetic bolts for the day a warning panel appeared before him. _Not again!_ He lamented as everyone in the room jumped up from their seats, their communicators all ringing in alarm. "There is an unstable Rift portal forming in one of the test areas." G'raha calmly explained while entering commands into the panel. "Isolation protocols for the area are being activated…now."

The ringing stopped with the crisis averted. Unfortunately there was no celebration to be had. "How many this time?" Biggs asked, his eyes lowered.

"Four."

A moment of silence. Four more souls sacrificed to the cause. When dealing with devices that bent the laws of time and space accidents meant no escape for those involved, lest they unleash unpredictable effects upon the entire project. Though everyone's eyes fell shut, G'raha's were less in mourning and more in dread of what was to come.

Their meeting resumed as normal when they finished.

The Ironworks published no notices of fatalities in their work. There was no time (G'raha always cringed internally when someone said this near him) for them to be demoralized by their losses - what did it matter when they were driving towards unwinding their own existences anyway? Leaving no record of those who passed failed to sit well with Biggs, however, and he instead had a memorial set up at the Ironworks' base at the Keeper of the Lake.

G'raha had had no words when he was first taken to the ransacked and disintegrating Garlean airship now wholly supported by Midgardsormr's corpse two hundred years in the future. Fully intact walls were a luxury at the corpse-within-a-corpse, but Biggs had one made into a space where the identification tags of those lost were hung.

The rare flower was often tossed at the wall's base. Pale yellow today - G'raha focused on wondering where it had managed to push up its face to the unforgiving sun and live only to be plucked to honor the dead, rather than the four tags in his hand he'd had to recreate for the memorial since the originals were scattered with their owners somewhere across the Rift. Mechanically he passed them to Biggs, observing another moment of silence while they were hung.

Whenever Biggs and G'raha approached the wall a crowd formed, and this time was no different. Truthfully the Miqo'te found the entire affair absurd - _"ritually placing objects at a memorial is only one step removed from death notices!"_ he had argued - but the leaders of the Ironworks wouldn't hear it.

The gatherings were always laced with threads of optimism, and G'raha steeled himself as he turned to leave.

"Sir G'raha, don't worry about us!"

"We'll get you to the past, no matter what!"

"Do you see how calm he is? We have to work harder to do the same!"

On and on the dedications and compliments went, chasing him from the Keeper of the Lake, down the path back to the Crystal Tower, and only ending once G'raha wound his way past scores of engineers and entered the hallway to his private chambers. From there he could access the Ocular and Umbilicus, his personal room, and a few other spaces he had reserved in case the need arose. Today all G'raha needed was peace and quiet, closing the twin doors and sliding down them to the floor. There he sat, robes and teeth clenched tightly, his well-crafted facade falling off as his gaze fixed downward.

_I didn't know their names until I was handing them over in death. In fact, I barely know 'anyone's' name. Can I truly make it so their sacrifices weren't in vain? Am I even allowed to think this way after so much has been invested in my journey?? I'm sorry everyone…_

Mere minutes into G'raha's much needed breakdown his communicator chirped merrily. He briefly warred between answering and throwing the device at the wall. Deciding there'd already been too much loss for the day he slipped the dropped mask back over his true feelings and answered. "G'raha speaking."

" _Raha, are you free?_ "

"Oh, of course!" G'raha scrambled to his feet lightning fast at hearing the welcome voice. "Would you like to head to the usual place? I can adjust the teleporters for you."

" _You know me too well! I'll be up there shortly._ "

"Right, see you soon!"

-~-

"Keep your feet firmly planted!"

"Tuck your elbows in!"

"Don't waste any motion!"

_Clang!_

A satisfied grin graced G'raha's formerly pursed lips. Having taken the advice to heart he put his all into the strike, his aetheric sword connecting solidly with his sparring partner's metal shield exactly as he needed it to. "Success at last!" He triumphantly cried. "And in only a week's time!"

"Whew, indeed - well done Raha!"

The Wildwood Elezen woman he'd been trading blows with for the last hour stowed her sword and shield and removed her helmet, freeing short magenta hair to the winds and hazel eyes to cast wide over the balcony high up Syrcus Tower. Several scars complimented the beginnings of wrinkles adorning her face, all adding charm to the seventy-four year-old visage grinning at G'raha proudly. "As always, it's my pleasure to see you improve so quickly." She bowed deeply to him. "Although if you keep poking your elbows out from behind your equipment I'm going to cut them off!"

G'raha returned said equipment to the aether from whence it came and haughtily planted his hands on his hips. "You will do no such thing Drisette - you know I can shield myself from any blow with magic."

Drisette Fioria, Paladin of one of the numerous mercenary groups protecting Mor Dhona and G'raha's closest friend in the here and now, folded her arms and gave him "the look". Reserved for any time the Administrator cited his enhanced magical abilities as the answer to a problem he could overcome with skill, it always prompted indignantly inflated cheeks, followed by them both dissolving into peals of friendly laughter at each other.

G'raha met Drisette not long after waking. An escort had accompanied the Ironworks engineers on their trek to the Crystal Tower, the mercenaries in it choosing to wait outside the throne room in case attempting to wake G'raha triggered any defenses. They all regrouped once G'raha was safely secured to exit the Tower via teleporter, but one mercenary in particular kept eyeing him strangely. Once he finished his tour of the Keeper of the Lake and was free to roam he ran into his sheepish admirer waiting by the docks.

_"Are you truly G'raha Tia? I never thought this day would come…you see, my name is Drisette Fioria, and I was born to meet you."_

Once G'raha pulled his jaw from the ground he and Drisette found someplace nicer to talk. Her last name on its own spoke volumes and eased G'raha's fears someone was already seeking to do him harm. Violette Fioria, her grandmother, was the adventuring Bard who on a whim decided to visit an incredibly remote area of La Noscea she heard about from a R tribe member living in Limsa Lominsa, and in doing so met one R'yhuven Tia. The time she spent with him, teaching him how to play the lute, showing him maps of the world, explaining adventurers and wanderlust, and then leaving him said lute and maps upon her abrupt departure, were the catalyst for R'yhuven's venturing out into the world to eventually become the Warrior of Light.

In the time R'yhuven and G'raha spent together the then Bard fondly referred to Violette as both his cherished mentor and his surrogate mother. Though he didn't get to see the wandering Wildwood often, during their infrequent meetings R'yhuven made sure to impart to Violette every new detail of his life. This was how she came to know of G'raha, in the sacrifice he made for the world and how much R'yhuven loved him.

Worried that the world might forget G'raha existed she tasked her three children with the knowledge of who he was at the start of the Eighth Umbral Calamity, not long before meeting her end defending R'yhuven's tribe from a group of militants. They then passed this knowledge to the one child born to them in the Calamity's wake. Upon hearing stirrings of the Ironworks attempting to wake the Crystal Tower's guardian, she abandoned defending the hamlet her remaining family occupied and joined a mercenary group headed for Mor Dhona, quickly rising in its ranks for the chance to help see the deed done.

Just like her predecessor Drisette was far from the doting type, however. Knowing that G'raha would have to fend for himself for an unknown amount of time during his journey, she offered to teach him Paladin skills. They trained hard whenever Drisette was available, and afterward relaxed just as much.

"Right, well now I have your next lesson planned." Drisette shrugged playfully. "Have to make sure the stubborn old man keeps his magic for necessary things like _healing_."

G'raha's eyebrow twitched. Only she could get away with calling him 'old' without getting an earful. "If you have enough energy to make bad jokes it sounds as though we should move that lesson up to right now!"

"Absolutely not!" The declaration made G'raha jump in surprise, but Drisette walked over, placing a hand on his hair and ruffling it affectionately. "You promised to show me your other progress the next time we met, or did you forget that _old man_?"

"Hmph!"

He very much hadn't. Though his arms crossed, being pet drew out G'raha's purr. The quiet moment melted away not only his efforts from practice, but the day's stress as well. _Thank the Gods for sending you my way today. I might have still been in a heap at the doors otherwise._

Drisette guided them towards the pillows piled up on one side of the room, having been cleared from the room's center to make way for their sparring. Slowly, she eased her armored form onto the luxurious Allagan squares, letting loose a sigh that sounded as though she had forgotten her own troubles. "Have you had any luck with the rough part?" She asked as she sank in comfortably, arms out to her sides in the portrait of relaxation.

"A bit." G'raha admittedly honestly. Rather than join Drisette he headed for a nearby chair. Against its seat rested a beautiful lute he had found in a storage room within the Tower while exploring. Revisiting the Tower's libraries yielded several practice books, testaments to the Allagan Empire's focus on the arts at its peak, and though G'raha held nothing but contempt for R'yhuven he still annoyingly found himself becoming obsessed with following in his wake.

Not that he could ever admit a sliver of that to Drisette.

For now he slipped into the chair with instrument in hand, focused on his performance. G'raha's fingers found the strings on instinct - a good sign - and began playing a traditional Allagan song familiar to his voice but not his novice hands. Drisette nodded along to the tune as he managed to stumble his way through, no signs of disappointment or judgment on her face when G'raha inevitably made mistakes.

"'A bit' is being modest Raha." She gently scolded him when he finished. A shy blush colored his cheeks under the praise. "You're not perfect yet, as you shouldn't be. But the amount of growth you've shown compared to a month ago has me inspired…maybe I should try."

"Would the teacher like to become the student?" G'raha teased.

Rolling her eyes the entire way back down Syrcus Tower, Drisette waved her hands past her face. "Never mind! 'I'm' too old for that! I'll leave the learning new things to you."

Metal clinked lightly as she rolled onto her side, friendly warmth touching the hazel gaze now set back on G'raha. "But what I _would_ like is to hear more of your playing. For practice, of course." Drisette winked.

"Haha, of course."

Another song, this one better suited for someone of G'raha's skill level, drifted from the ancient instrument in light, calm tones, evoking unbidden thoughts of R'yhuven. The Bard's talent had been clear to G'raha after the first night they performed together. And certainly, that talent shone brightly on complicated compositions.

But there was always something homey to G'raha about simpler, down-to-earth songs, and R'yhuven seemed to agree. Many a time under their favorite crystal G'raha had been granted a view he could never forget - the ethereal visage of R'yhuven swept away by what was considered commoner's music, drawing a powerful, almost otherworldly energy from each note. Back then G'raha found himself forgetting to breathe while watching, and when he eventually drummed up the courage to ask about it one day R'yhuven's embarrassed response was "playing for you, where I don't have to worry about how well I'm doing, must bring out the best in me." A fight over R'yhuven being lazy in his presence ensued afterward, but at that moment G'raha had been honored they were close enough R'yhuven let his true self show.

_True self…hardly. I was nothing more than entertainment for him. He likely 'didn't' care about how he played for me. Gods, it hurts so much…but I can't stop myself…Whatever. I'll become twice as good as him!_

Anger threatened to ruin his concentration. G'raha snapped back to full awareness ready to cover for any missteps by citing his inexperience, except-

"Zzz…"

Drisette had curled up and dropped off into a deep sleep. Thrilled his amateur lute playing could have such an effect, G'raha carefully sat his instrument aside, trading it for a blanket. He draped the heavy cloth over her to keep out the chill from the night breeze, then secured a blanket and place among the pillows of his own.

_At least I know how to be a 'real' friend. She came here to protect me, but I never attempt to use that to my own ends. We spend our time together doing nothing of the sort - her training is the closest we come, but outside of that is my lute practice, my learning how to cook, and our exploring the libraries to find poorly written novels, none of which is me utilizing my knowledge to wring admiration out of her. When we're here we can just be ourselves…no Calamity, no dire situations…no worshipping the ground I walk on. Just an honest friendship._

Studying the various geometric patterns on the blanket suddenly became very interesting. _Did_ they have an honest friendship? Whenever Drisette asked how the Tower modifications were progressing G'raha always answered "well", and it had nothing to do with the Ironworks' policies. Days like today, where G'raha held evidence to the contrary in his hands, he still answered cheerfully. He never divulged his fears either, about if he would truly be the light of hope everyone hinged their very existence on, or about her and the dangerous work she did every day. And he took particular care to avoid revealing his deeply rooted hatred and obsession with R'yhuven. _Day in and day out I have to be a paragon for the sake of the world, and while I don't resent it in the slightest I simply...Is it so wrong to want one place where I can relax and be myself??_

Another look cast over Drisette's peacefully sleeping form. Formerly calming shapes crumpled into chaos, the corner of G'raha's blanket shoved into his mouth to stifle the emotions pouring out of him like a freshly lanced wound. For months he had let hate ferment his beloved memories into an elixir poisonous enough to almost alter the course of the world, roiling his insides, tearing at his sanity as he could neither keep it down nor retch it up, same as in his first waking moments. And in similar fashion G'raha had drawn poor conclusions without sufficient knowledge or information and turned his back on a worthy cause.

Hurriedly, he took off for the edge of the balcony fast as he could wrapped in the blanket. He spat out his muzzle a sufficient distance from Drisette not to wake her, and only then uttered the pained whine it had kept in and stared upward. "Blinded to the precious gift I had been given by my foolish pride. What are you doing G'raha, thinking a man with anything or anyone he could ever want at his beck and call choosing to see you at your every whim was somehow a _slight_? Because the other kittens made fun of you relentlessly, and that made you never want to be perceived a child? While acting so childish as to grow angered by the sex life of a man who wasn't sleeping with you, but might have been had you simply asked like the adult you claim to be??"

Unfortunately the stars, though close, chose not to reply. "Perhaps, before we complete our task, I'll find it in me to say what I couldn't bring myself to before I left. Or at the very least, I can thank him for proving a wonderful friend, even now."

Within the confines of its cocoon the tip of G'raha's tail swayed slowly, memories of spending the night tucked against R'yhuven's shoulder as he slept, enveloped in the comfort of his scent, and stealing a kiss regaining the warmth they brought before G'raha threw it away. He touched his lips fondly. Then he returned to his sleeping friend, lay by her side, and let the night take the last of his doubts in R'yhuven along with his wakefulness.

\--

G'raha didn't move after the recollection ended. In his hands crimson fur waved back and forth in light agitation. Not wanting to interrupt what might be on his mind the Exarch held his tongue.

Eventually G'raha came to rest. "Now I feel foolish as well, yet…"

"Yet?"

"Yet for seeing your revelation, and agreeing with your conclusion, and knowing it to be true, and seeing Yhuven holding us so sweetly…" He exhaled hard enough to push back further in his chair. Eyes pressed shut, he pinched his forehead between two fingers. "Muirenval is his partner right now. And as he was able to write about it Yhuven must continue to take his pleasures with others despite their relationship. Meaning he did with yours as well."

"That is correct." The Exarch watched a frown etch its way onto his younger self's face. "Love is not like those romance novels. It is messy and rough, and that makes it beautiful. Everyone experiences it a different way. And in Yhuven's way, we are the only ones with whom he shares both romantic and physical intimacy. But a large part of who he is is sharing himself in other modes of affection."

G'raha huffed loudly, then cast his gaze downward. "But…I want to feel special…"

"You needn't worry about _that_."

"Huh-ahh!"

Forgoing trying to explain the myriad ways R'yhuven had shown his single-minded devotion to him alone, the Exarch decided to pass along highlights of his experiences...by flicking G'raha between where his fingers had been prior. A rainbow of reactions ranging from surprised, to shocked, to launching from his seat and turning his back came over him in mere seconds. "Oh…alright…alright then…"

Unsteadily, he wobbled back to sit, hands securely in his lap and sweat lightly peppering his brow. His ears stood straight up. "Mind you," the Exarch continued smugly, "this means you too will find yourself in these positions. I discovered I actually enjoy it but, I'll let you decide what you choose to do."

"I'll at least trrry."

"You are already purring."

G'raha buried his face in his hands.

"That aside." Clearing his throat, the Exarch steered the conversation back to important matters. "There are serious aspects to love as well, particularly in being so close to the Warrior of Light. Yhuven already carries a great burden, along with tending to hold in his feelings and easily getting lost in his mind. There is more to this, to him, that needs explaining, but at times you will have to lead him where he needs to go, and force him to stop busy bodying and take care of himself. He gives far too much of himself to the world and takes far too little in return."

"Further emphasizing how absurd I was. I'll do it." The purring had ended, but G'raha's conviction shone brightly. Like R'yhuven, they too could never back down from a challenge. "And not because you did, but because I choose to. I do love him too, just as I am." He gently touched over his heart.

A large burden lifted from the Exarch knowing no matter what, he wouldn't make R'yhuven suffer his jealousy twice. "It will be different for you for certain, not having the looming threat of vanishing from existence driving you to desperation and all that."

The frown returned for a different reason. "Is that what you expected to happen? That by unwinding the Eighth Umbral Calamity everything from the branching point in time would be erased, including you?" G'raha tapped a foot thoughtfully. "That does seem sound, yet once more here you are. Which means…oh… _no_ …"

"One of many miscalculations and missteps that plagued my efforts and will forever haunt me. Every day I pray for them, among others." G'raha perked up, his curiosity piqued by the Exarch's addition. "Let us continue on to my departure to the First, and how my journey would be nothing how I imagined."


	14. At Memory's End - G'raha, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'raha followed Drisette's gaze across the expanse and up the Tower. "Raha, do you think my soul existed in the Lifestream before the person I am now?"
> 
> "It is very possible." The odd question caught G'raha off-guard. "Why do you ask?"
> 
> She beamed brightly as she put in the final coordinates. "Because when you finally wake in the new timeline, I hope we can meet there as well."
> 
> "I am sure we will…I know we will!"
> 
> It was either be brave or break down into tears. G'raha chose the former for his own sake, waving his final goodbye. "I'll see you then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no exchange this chapter - G'raha's listening very intently. It's not too terribly graphic I think, but there are some descriptions of G'raha turning to crystal and one sin eater incident in this chapter so be warned!
> 
> Additionally, I just realized that I somehow completely reversed two names in this and the last chapter. If you've read _Tomorrow and Tomorrow_ you may recall that R'yhuven's mentor was named Drisette and her granddaughter was Violette. I actually reviewed that chapter in T&T before writing this and _still_ got it wrong so, going forward this story has retconned the previous and the names have officially flipped. This is what happens when you don't have a character list written out everyone :)

G'raha blinked into the early morning sun on his final trek across Mor Dhona. His night had drawn late and sleepless, Biggs' company welcome as the pair shared campfire revelations. In two years the Ironworks' determination, R'yhuven's legacy, and Drisette's companionship had shaped the naive man who awoke from crystal dreams to a bleak reality into one who knew far better than when he started. To be able to carry on with Biggs maturely and introspectively rejuvenated G'raha in its own right.

By his side, his loyal escort kept a sharp eye for would-be assailants seeking one last chance to thwart his departure. For the first year and a half assaults on the Keeper of the Lake and the path leading to the Crystal Tower had been relentless. As the Ironworks' project neared completion, however, the fighting slowed to almost nothing, as if the world had finally resigned itself to the unwinding of its fate. Not that anything that trivial would make her less vigilant - in all likelihood G'raha knew it would make her more so, though considering these were the last moments in which they would ever see each other he wished she would relax a little.

But their trip concluded in silence, and Miqo'te and Elezen eventually arrived at the teleporter past the Sentinels without so much as a tree branch falling inappropriately. G'raha didn't sulk as often as he used to these days, but he felt a rare fit coming on when punching in Syrcus Tower for the teleporter's destination.

"Raha."

His hand slipped, the console scolding G'raha for entering incorrect parameters. Fixing them would have to wait. All that concerned him now was the hazel gaze set upon him, and how the emotions swirling within it mirrored those of another who watched him depart through the Tower's gates what felt like several lifetimes ago.

"Drisette." He eventually retorted sassily.

The corner of her mouth quirked upward, a grin G'raha felt she'd been holding onto their entire trip freeing itself.

Then a beam of sunlight glinted across G'raha's vision, reflected off Drisette's blade as it cut through the air. Reflexively he leapt backward out of range, the sweeping strike passing by where his head had been. "Drisette?!" He asked in disbelief. _Have I been tricked? Was she waiting for this moment to end me?_

"I told you." The Paladin raised her shield, holding her sword out behind her. "I was born to meet you. To ensure if someone needed the Crystal Tower they knew of your slumber. And then, if you were to awaken, to protect you with my very life. I've done everything I can to fulfil my duty."

A serious veil dropped over Drisette's features, creasing the new wrinkles and scars her face bore as payment for her services. "So now, before you very rudely take away the very reason for my existence, I need you to prove something to me."

Light flashed past G'raha again as she flipped her sword in an expert flick of the wrist, catching it exactly as it had been without casting a single glance its way. "Prove to me my life was worth living!"

G'raha formed his aetherial sword and shield just in time to block Drisette's lunging strike. The force of the impact rattled his teeth in their sockets - this was no training exercise today. In a different time G'raha might have questioned her, reassured her that her life had meaning, and begged her not to make him fight his closest friend.

But those were sentiments for an age where the wellspring of hope still overflowed in abundance. In the shadow of the Eighth Umbral Calamity hope had been stopped up until G'raha's awakening allowed the smallest trickle through. And now that the world held its breath at the cusp of the dam breaking to wash everything away and begin anew, who was he to deny anyone caught in the deluge their final gasp of air before they were pulled under?

So they fought as if their lives were on the line. Blissfully, G'raha hadn't had to watch Drisette wade into the fray on his behalf often, but even his limited exposure revealed exactly how she she'd risen through the ranks so quickly. The blows raining down on G'raha were mercilessly relentless and sorrowfully elegant, no opening too small for exploit by sword or spell.

Every lesson Drisette drilled into G'raha came into play as they twirled back and forth across their Allagan stage. He fought hard to give undeniable proof of her worth, replying to the questions imparted by Drisette's every calculated motion with reprisals in equal measure. Steel sang, bellowed, wailed the elegy of a dying world - for all the blessings imparted on G'raha by the technology of eld, the power of its notes reaching into and through him, seizing his heart in bright mourning, would not be denied.

They swung in unison, two determined gazes boring through each other as their swords clashed in a flurry of sparks and aether motes. Drisette grunted in exertion pushing back against G'raha - the first real sound he'd heard her make since their duel began - and he dug his heels into the stone, his arm aching in an effort not to lose ground.

Her eyes narrowed, his grew wide, the screeching between them reached an unbearable pitch, the silence of the combatants swelled, until the moment broke with the sudden collision of two shields raised using the chaos as cover. Drisette and G'raha simultaneously reeled backward from the impact, every bone in G'raha's body crying out at being so violently shaken yet again, but Drisette was recovering and looked to be moving to strike.

Instead she dropped her weapons to the ground, the clatter heralding the elegy's end. It startled G'raha into dissipating his own armaments, and exploiting the pause Drisette rushed over, scooping him off his feet into her arms.

"Raha!!" She exclaimed joyfully. He wanted to sigh in relief she was back to her usual self, but his lungs were too busy being crushed into the rest of his remaining organs. "Thank you my friend! You didn't win, exactly how I knew you wouldn't, but you fought like you wanted to. Consider me convinced."

"Dri...sette…"

On hearing G'raha's gasping for air she lowered him to the ground. Nothing of his felt terribly injured except his pride. "I'm glad to see that even at the end of the world you can leave me one last reminder of your superiority. Hmph!"

Dramatically he folded his arms, lowered his ears, and gave Drisette one last frumpy face for the road. Her eyes rolled right into her signature look, and they laughed together loudly and freely, erasing any residual aches from G'raha's being knocked about. When they calmed down she rested a hand between G'raha's ears to ruffle his hair. "Listen, you be-"

G'raha tried his best not to show how little he wanted to hear "be well" one more time.

"-smart, like I know you are."

When his ears flattened in surprise Drisette grabbed one and rubbed it with a smirk. "Don't look so surprised! I _have_ been with you all day - by the time the twentieth person told you to 'be well' you started looking as though you were going to jump down one! Besides, your martial skills are exceptional, but it's your mind that will be the most important for determining how to save the First."

Mustering a nod under the affectionate gesture, G'raha reluctantly pulled away. "Thank you Drisette, for everything. I should be going."

"That you should. Here." The Paladin reclaimed her gear and headed to the console abandoned earlier. "Though I wonder…"

G'raha followed Drisette's gaze across the expanse and up the Tower. "Raha, do you think my soul existed in the Lifestream before the person I am now?"

"It is very possible." The odd question caught G'raha off-guard. "Why do you ask?"

She beamed brightly as she put in the final coordinates. "Because when you finally wake in the new timeline, I hope we can meet there as well."

"I am sure we will…I know we will!"

It was either be brave or break down into tears. G'raha chose the former for his own sake, waving his final goodbye. "I'll see you then."

"Until then Raha. And don't forget to sweep R'yhuven off his feet with that croquette recipe of yours - no one could reject your confession after taking a bite!"

G'raha gasped - he hadn't once spoken of his feelings about R'yhuven to her. "Wai-"

"Bye!"

With a fond return wave Drisette pushed the confirmation on the teleport, whisking G'raha away in a blur of gently blowing magenta and wistful hazel before he could pry further. He could have very well gone back and asked, but his feet carried him down the long hallway to the twin doors leading inside Syrcus Tower with a determined step. _I never did say how much you truly saved me, although after that showing I suppose you already know far more than I ever put to words. May I wake in an age where I can fulfill our promise, my dear friend._

\--

At last G'raha passed through the twin doors to the Ocular, the room within Syrcus Tower set up for him to oversee everything needed for his mission. Within were several devices created to aid G'raha's impending research, including a highly sophisticated projection system that had consumed much of his time as he built models for it, particularly of the Shards and the Source.

But the literal shining achievement was his scrying mirror. Standing far taller than G'raha, the wondrous invention would serve as his link to the Source. Through it he could observe events wherever he chose on Hydaelyn, and most importantly reach out to communicate with R'yhuven and bring him to the First.

It wouldn't do to simply snatch the Warrior of Light away in the middle of his battles and ruin the world in a different way. Over the years G'raha had determined the time that would cause the least disruption was after the end of Nidhogg, but before R'yhuven became too embroiled in his fight against the Garlean Empire. _Although if I pulled him off the boat to Kugane I'm sure his poor stomach wouldn't mind!_

Imagining the otherwise stalwart man trapped in his room retching into a bucket had G'raha lovingly shake his head as he crossed the Ocular to claim the final physical objects needed to complete his preparations. Fondly, he took the bundle of arrows, the last R'yhuven had given to him in the World of Darkness, in his left hand.

In order to pull R'yhuven across the Rift G'raha would need to identify his soul through its aether, and while several of his possessions remained after the Calamity most all objects on the Source had been tainted with the First's aetherial signature over time. It was this encroachment that simplified targeting the Shard for travel, while unfortunately also hindering G'raha's retrieval. The Crystal Tower's energies had spared all within it, however, leaving G'raha's mementos as his best reference.

He allowed himself one last moment to gather his thoughts. Then, using his free right hand G'raha summoned an access panel, the last he would ever need. Allagan letters scrolled across its screen confirming the details of the meticulously crafted set of routines he had written over the last year.

First, he would be merged with Syrcus Tower. Up front the process didn't seem initially troublesome, only requiring an override of a set of policies meant to safeguard him from ill effects as Administrator. Immediately after all the Ironworks' creations would be spun up and send the Tower on its way. This was where G'raha anticipated complications - the energy expenditure needed to power the journey was tremendous, and highly likely to take its toll on his newly changed body. As it was already aggressively foolish for him to be tampering with time to begin with, it would be even more so to halt the process midway through due to human limitations. Thus, he had written the routines such that there was no way to abort them once they began, not even through an Administrative command. No matter what happened he and the Crystal Tower were making it to the First.

_Well, I'll be off then, everyone._

G'raha initiated the set of routines with a tap and waited, watching each attempt at dissuading him from the merger and matching acknowledgement be handled without further input on his part. Screens flickered by rapidly until, with a friendly chime of finality, the panel collapsed into motes of aether that swirled up and around his right arm.

[Further Administrator adjustments required for complete integration with Syrcus Tower systems. Please stand by.]

Being amazed at the voices and diagrams appearing within G'raha's mind regrettably had to wait. At the notice every nerve in his body seized and refused to loosen, leaving him frozen in place eyes wide open and hand clenched tightly around the arrows.

[Please stand by.]

Nothingness. Pure, void emptiness enveloped G'raha's consciousness (Soul? Was that what he was?), stripping him of every sense he possessed, including awareness of his body. _What is…what is this?? I can't tell where I am…what I am? Could it be that I…died? Is this abyss my eternal punishment for daring to tamper with time? Someone…please!_

[Please stand by.]

Light flared into G'raha's still open eyes. Sight was all he had, both in sense and physical awareness, but compared to moments before he would revel in the small victory - he wasn't dead or adrift in the Rift. Yet something felt strange about the way he now viewed the world. Then his hearing snapped back, and he knew.

Everything was _wrong_.

No longer were his ears involved in hearing. They remained upright and useless, sounds coming to G'raha through another source he couldn't identify.

[Please stand by.]

His restored sense of smell was laughable. As a Miqo'te he had access to a deeper sense of smell than the other human races. How much deeper he had taken for granted until it was gone, stripped similarly to his hearing. No longer could he detect the unique profile of the Crystal Tower's aether, his own scent, or that lingering faintly on his references. The very air felt bland and tasteless, a sensation G'raha had only experienced at the height of illness that was now to be his permanent state.

[Please stand by.]

As feeling returned to the remainder of G'raha's body he realized the full extent of his modifications. Where before his internal physiology had been slightly adjusted, whole parts of parts of him were suddenly…gone. In their place new systems and connections had been built - now aether coursed through him swift and life-giving as blood, which he was relieved he still had. But even that feeling was off, as if he were experiencing his body through a description provided by someone else as to how it should feel.

As if he was in a simulation.

Icy fingers slid down (what G'raha assumed was still) his spine at the disturbing predicament he found himself in. There had been no doubt merging with the pinnacle of Allagan technology would bring him even closer to being more machine than man. But spending the rest of his life as nothing but calculated interpolations of how the Crystal Tower thought a human might - was he still human at all? How could he know? And how could he trust anything about himself when it could all be manipulated?

[Adjustments complete. Full Administrator integration confirmed. Calibration of external interfaces recommended at the Administrator's earliest convenience.]

Had G'raha not still been immobile (due to a lack of calibration, he figured) he would have cursed. Loudly.

[All Syrcus Tower systems currently offline except Ironworks Spatial Computational Engine, Ironworks Temporal Computational Engine, and Syrcus Tower Structural Integrity Field. Remaining routines beginning execution.]

Everything went dark once more. To his side faint aether sparkled from the scrying mirror, bringing G'raha some small comfort.

Then his right arm took on the same bluish halo, and it was _not_ comforting.

Loud crackling rent the air. Sickeningly intense pain radiated from G'raha's fingers as they grew heavy, aether washing over them to leave behind a completely crystallized version of what he once was. And the process didn't stop there - as three hundred years of human innovation and resilience came to fruition, sending the Crystal Tower on a celebrated voyage the likes of which would never happen again, the lone traveler blessed with the opportunity to make it was frozen in place unable to scream his lungs out to the same degree he was in his mind while his right arm was slowly, excruciatingly, exacted as the price of their hubris.

When the sound and light relented, the energy needed to power the necessary processes completely spent, almost all of his right arm was claimed by crystal. Somehow, it felt more _real_ than G'raha's original body, the residual ache of the transformation refueling his doubts about his humanity.

The stream of memories from entering the Rift proved a welcome distraction. Proof G'raha still held some of his self floated by in fragments, trials from his childhood swirling around the quiet support from his parents, those mixing with his rise through Sharlayan academia as a scholar to dance hand in hand alongside his exploration of the Crystal Tower, and eventually trickling to a halt through drops of the last two years.

[Destination confirmed. Beginning reintegration into local time and space. Scans show no existing habitations within target arrival area.]

There was one bright spot at least. The Crystal Tower would appear on the First in the analogous position to where it had been on the Source. The Ironworks had theorized the locale bearing the same aetherial wellspring in both places, but that also raised a high risk of a civilization existing there on the First. Their only solution for that occurrence had been prayer, but G'raha could breathe easier knowing his opening act on the First didn't involve genocide.

Alas, it quickly became a minor victory. All of Syrcus Tower lurched violently, knocking the paralyzed Administrator flat onto his back to lay there as a discarded children's toy. The impact also managed to loose one of the arrows in his grasp. More pain flared across G'raha's left cheek and neck, the arrowhead gouging a disturbingly deep wound along its path. Now he was frozen and bleeding while tremors continued to wrack the Tower.

[Warning: Syrcus Tower structural integrity compromised. Cause: unexpectedly high amounts of light-aspected aether at the destination are interfering with Syrcus Tower Structural Integrity Field properties. Recalculating properties and reinitializing. Please stand by.]

_No, wait!! Don't-_

G'raha's protests amounted to naught by his own hand. He tried and failed to steel his battered mind for another round of crystallization, wholly concerned for how much of his original body would remain when everything was over. On cue light and sound accompanied the new power draw, except rather than continuing where it left off the new crystal chose to do G'raha a favor and seal his wound.

Unnaturally pliable flesh bonded to G'raha's face and neck in the crystallization's wake, stemming the bleeding. That apparently wasn't enough, because once it was taken care of the process continued on, crystal digging into his throat, clawing down both sides of his neck, and dragging across his shoulders. His entire right arm had been lost, and the left was a quarter consumed.

_I suppose my tattoos would be meaningless here anyway, and now I can wear open coats like Yhuven to show off my lovely upper torso. We'd make a matching set! His favorite color is green, so the blue is a perfect compliment. I even have built in gold accents!_ Delirious thoughts began bubbling up from the pit of G'raha's helplessness.

Thankfully the winds decided to be merciful and spare G'raha any further grief. His muscles began to loosen - a blissful sensation G'raha planned to enjoy later - though he felt abysmal through and through. Syrcus Tower and its base materialized on the First, large swaths of the centuries of aether accumulated on its exterior lost during the journey but structurally unharmed thanks to the Field, and came to rest in its new old home with a resounding _thud_.

By the time everything settled G'raha could pull himself to a sitting position. One thought occupied him now - gathering the errant arrow, he placed a hand to the scrying mirror, his silent guardian during his trials, and focused on finding R'yhuven's soul. It was frighteningly harder than he predicted, the overwhelming light of the First and the wild, chaotic energies of time and space trying determinedly to thwart G'raha's efforts.

He managed to succeed though it drained the last of his energy, and was rewarded by seeing R'yhuven traveling alongside Alphinaud, Estinien, and Ysayle in Dravania. _Yes, yes, YES!!_ Had he the strength G'raha would have lifted his robes and twirled around the room, but settled for tiredly leaning against the mirror and being only a little sad he couldn't send himself through. _It worked…all the toil, all the loss, all the sacrifice…your lives weren't wasted!_

[Warning: Administrator condition has deteriorated by ninety-seven percent. Full Diagnostic Cycle will be engaged in one minute. This process may take several days - please find a safe location or one will be selected at random.]

Stiffly, the exhausted Miqo'te rubbed at his eyes as he reviewed the dire report that appeared in his vision with the cheerful voice in his head. _I'll have to get used to this. For now let me stop the unpleasant sounding diagnostic and get to work._ "Tower Control."

A foreign voice emerged from G'raha's throat. Of all that had changed about him this hurt the most, but mourning an aesthetic change would have to wait. "Abort diagnostic via Administrator override and resume normal Tower operations."

[Syrcus Tower systems beginning reboot sequence. Full Diagnostic Cycle will be engaged in twenty-four seconds.]

That wasn't right. "I said to abort the diagnostic. I can run one myself that doesn't incapacitate me."

[Error: Administrator override cannot be utilized to disable Revised Administrator Safeguard Policies. All revised Policies can be reviewed after the Full Diagnostic Cycle is complete. Beginning shutdown.]

In stark contrast to before G'raha melted onto the floor, the arrows clattering from his hand to bounce down the nearby steps. Coldly deliberate warmth enveloped him - the diagnostic seemed designed as a pleasant experience meant to comprehensively restore the owner of the Tower, but not having control over it only served to undo all its potential goodwill.

As his vision went dark G'raha caught one more glimpse of the mirror. Nothing in the scene had changed, indicating time on the Source was passing slowly for now, and he reached out for it with weak, crystalline fingers. "I…nhh...Yhu…ven..."

\--

Infuriatingly, when G'raha woke four days later he felt fully refreshed, easily rising to his feet. He examined his right arm in amazement, flexing his fingers and marveling at how though crystal, it was just as alive and more sensitive than the rest of him. After a few additional moments to confirm the rest of him was similarly functional he turned his attention to checking on the Crystal Tower. "Tower Control, status report please."

A series of diagrams and confirmations of everything having returned to its default state, all mechanisms used to transport him to the First completely shut down, scrolled past for G'raha's approval. When he went to dismiss them one statistic caught his eye, however. "Why have the aerial defenses had days of constant operation?"

[Flying lifeforms of unknown origin have encroached on the Syrcus Tower airspace.]

Another glance showed the defenses were active at this very moment. Terrified the Crystal Tower had been murdering innocents during his slumber, he pulled up a view of the current activity.

Winged, grotesque caricatures of humans and other creatures assailed Syrcus Tower. G'raha pitied them as they were methodically destroyed by lasers whenever they flew into range of the aerial defenses. _When the Thirteenth Shard turned entirely to dark aether its denizens became twisted into demons. Are these horrors all that remains of the people of the First?_ Sad as that thought was, there was nothing to be done except try to keep them away through methods not involving shooting them unless necessary.

"Yet I can't imagine they all are capable of flight. Tower Control, show me the entrance of Syrcus Tower."

The view quickly shifted as requested.

To a scene of pure chaos.

An army of the creatures were swarming the front gate. In their midst humans G'raha would have thought plucked right from the Source fought back furiously, at least a hundred souls huddled by the gate surrounded by a ring of defenders. The variety of armor and weapons among them told a story G'raha had seen play out often in the last two years - these people were refugees at the end of hope seeking shelter.

He watched, wide-eyed, as one of the warriors took a clean blow from a nearby creature. It didn't look fatal, so G'raha's stomach lurched as rather than help them, those nearby immediately struck them down. "What in the…"

A cry rang out from the gate. They were under attack by another group of creatures who swiftly claimed several before they could be dispatched. A stampede began as those nearby fought to escape, providing G'raha a clear view of the injured screaming and writhing in agony, light-tainted fluid running from their every orifice until they collapsed, transforming into the very thing they had fought against, and rushed into the fleeing mass to turn their former friends and family.

" _By the Twelve_ ," G'raha started, "I cannot believe this has been happening right at my feet." He trembled not in fear, but _rage_ , fists clenched and fangs bared. The weight of his arm suddenly felt good - it reminded him that he hadn't paid such a high price for nothing, that though he was no Hydaelyn-blessed Warrior of Light he was far from powerless in his domain.

Fast as he could blink he teleported himself to the gate and flung it open. "This way!!" G'raha shouted as he motioned inside. No one hesitated, people streaming past him into the safety of the Tower's entryway. He quickly teleported again to where several brave souls still fought to protect their charges and threw up a barrier around them. Outside it the creatures clawed and gnashed at the magic to no avail, reassuring all but one person they too could take refuge inside.

The older warrior, a Hyuran woman bearing heavy armor and the scars of battle to match, raised her sword alongside G'raha without hesitation. "Thank you for your aid my good Mystel, but I can't leave you to fight off these sin eaters alone magic or not!"

A grin, one he'd held in since arriving at the gate, crossed G'raha's face. "No need to worry friend. I have been trained in the sword, but also happen to know a little magic trick that can help in times like these."

Aether swirled around G'raha's hands as he wove the ancient Allagan spell, its potency multiplied tenfold thanks to his integration with the Crystal Tower. It almost made him laugh at how easy it was, costing him no effort so close to the source of his power. All of the sin eaters' attention focused on him now, his companion remaining ready to strike as they battered the shield before them attempting to break through.

"You will come no further!!" G'raha crowed triumphantly, bringing all his hopes and those of who sent him there to bear, loosing his spell on the horde. " _Break!_ "


	15. At Memory's End - G'raha, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At that, G'raha returned to his chair to sit _hard_. Taking his head between his palms he rubbed at increasingly weary eyes, down his slightly drawn cheeks, and finally came to rest his chin on an upturned palm. "If you weren't me I don't know if I could believe a word of this anymore. You mean to tell me, everyone labored so long for you to not only arrive _after_ the event you sought to thwart, but the task before you was one even Hydaelyn couldn't solve?"
> 
> His tail flicked up and settled in his lap. "That you succeeded swells my heart with unfathomable pride."
> 
> "That…" Slowly, the Exarch breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, flexing nervous fingers around his staff. "Success may have been the eventual outcome, but the path there was paved with pieces of…me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long - this has been one heck of a December. Hurray 2020 :) There will be one last recollection chapter after this, then back to the story at large. Thank you for accompanying me on this much longer than intended diversion!

The Exarch watched G'raha absorb all he had said. The harrowing nature of it had quashed any interruptions. He was thankful, as the details hadn't been allowed to fade into the dullness of memory due to his merger with the Tower, and inserting questions into his recollections would only have made their retelling more painful.

"Given we knew nothing about what state the First might be in, it was impossible to formulate a plan on explaining mine and the Crystal Tower's appearance ahead of time should the need arise. That there were still humans untouched by the Light's corruption, and that I encountered them so quickly, greatly aided my efforts to learn about the new world I had come to and try to fit in."

As G'raha's silence continued, an inclination of his head the only sign the story still held his attention, the Exarch brought up a map of the First on the Umbilicus' mirror. "This is Norvrandt, the livable part of the First."

Finally finding his voice, G'raha stood to more closely examine the image. "Am I imagining things, or does this seem very…small?"

"You are correct, it is." A nostalgic pang struck the Exarch as he began adding icons. "Here in the center is where I landed, in the area known as Lakeland. A civilization once flourished here, but all that remains of it are a handful of small settlements and partially intact forts."

"To the northwest lies Il Mheg, magical lands once belonging to the fallen kingdom of Voeburt taken over by the three races of magical beings collectively called the fae. One race, the Nu Mou, are docile, canine-like creatures who take pleasure in serving others and worked in the service of the Voeburtites. The two others - the pixies, who embrace nature and dreams, and the fuath, who command the waters - took over Il Mheg once the Voeburtites fled. Their unique, and unfortunately very incompatible with other races, morals make them often very dangerous, and as such few humans travel to the fae's domain lest they become subject their often cruel whims."

"To the northeast we have the Rak'tika Greatwood. In ancient times an advanced civilization known as Ronka reigned here. Now they are survived only by ruins housing their knowledge fiercely guarded by the Viis, whom we call Viera on the Source. The Night's Blessed, a peaceful religious group who worship the darkness, and their rival group, the more militant Children of the Everlasting Dark, occupy the opposite side of the Greatwood out of the territorial Viis' purview."

"Then to the far west on an island we have Kholusia, home of Eulmore, the single remaining major city in Norvrandt. The people there once boasted of a grand military force to fight against the sin eaters, but over time fell to despair, deciding to indulge in naught but pleasure until the end of the world."

"And finally." The Exarch began, readying himself for another painful explanation. "There is the desert land of Ahm Araeng in the south. A flourishing empire would have stood there, had it not been destroyed by the Flood of Light."

G'raha sighed. "That sounds bad…"

To that the Exarch could only nod, putting a full frown on G'raha's face. "The Flood of Light was a massive wave of light aether that nearly engulfed the entire First. Only Norvrandt was spared, the Flood coming to a halt midway into Ahm Araeng."

"Wait…what?" Now the younger man's forehead creased in thought. "This sounds as though the Eighth Umbral Calamity should have occurred earlier than it did on the Source. What is capable of preventing a world from tipping into its element, even if only temporarily?"

The Exarch exhaled slowly. "Hydaelyn, or more specifically, Minfilia."

"Minfilia?!" Ears raised, G'raha jumped back in surprise. "As in the leader of the Scions? How??"

"Hydaelyn's power wanes with every Rejoining the Ascians initiate. After coming to Yhuven's aid against the Ultima Weapon it faded considerably, leading Her to draw Minfilia to Her side to act as Her emissary." Explaining nearly drew a frown on the Exarch's face as well. "The travelers the Ascians brought to fight against Yhuven were in truth the Warriors of Light from the First, who had been tricked into initiating their world's end by the Ascians, then deceived once more into thinking slaying Yhuven could save what remained. Later it was discovered that all but one of them was sacrificed by Minfilia to supplement Hydaelyn's power and halt the Flood."

At that, G'raha returned to his chair to sit _hard_. Taking his head between his palms he rubbed at increasingly weary eyes, down his slightly drawn cheeks, and finally came to rest his chin on an upturned palm. "If you weren't me I don't know if I could believe a word of this anymore. You mean to tell me, everyone labored so long for you to not only arrive _after_ the event you sought to thwart, but the task before you was one even Hydaelyn couldn't solve?"

His tail flicked up and settled in his lap. "That you succeeded swells my heart with unfathomable pride."

"That…" Slowly, the Exarch breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, flexing nervous fingers around his staff. "Success may have been the eventual outcome, but the path there was paved with pieces of…me."

"You see, my mission had now changed from preventing the downfall of the First to halting an event already in progress. Though Minfilia and Hydaelyn's efforts temporarily held back the Light, the First remained suffused with it. Nighttime only existed in the annals of history - the sky cast an unnatural daylight glow at all times. A boon for the Crystal Tower, and anathema for all living things in the world."

"There was also the threat posed by those corrupted by Light. Dubbed 'sin eaters' by the First's inhabitants, they not only supped on the life force of other living beings, but also possessed the ability to corrupt man and beast alike, swelling their ranks. Sin eater attacks on inhabited areas were a way of life on the First, and powerful though I may have been I would not make of myself an experiment to see if I could be affected. These were setbacks, yes, but I could at least get to work. Or so I thought."

The staff pinged against the floor, changing the mirror's image to a mass of people within Syrcus Tower's entryway. "Word of the miracle tower and its mysterious owner from 'lands beyond' began rippling out from Lakeland. At first the numbers were small, and I gladly provided them respite. Then they began to swell into an overcrowded settlement rife with hardship. The situation grew so dire people lived in squalor, fights over the meager supplies available becoming commonplace. I begged the refugees to leave, insisting my aid was temporary and inadequate, yet the alternative was leaving them to a twisted fate at the mercy of sin eaters. I remained torn on the matter until, yet again, a group of engineers and mercenaries approached me with an ambitious proposal: building a city on the base of Syrcus Tower."

"Aha!" G'raha released his chin to excitedly smack fist against palm. "What a fantastic idea! The Tower's base is extremely well constructed, given it managed to survive the energies that sank the Tower in millennia past wholly intact. Its dimensions offer ample room for building, while its separation from the inside of Syrcus Tower would prevent residents from accidentally stumbling over the more…unsavory…areas within."

The Exarch nodded firmly. "Areas which only grew more 'unsavory' after the Ironworks' alterations and a trip through time. There was also an abundance of building materials available thanks to the shattered crystal lying about from my journey. This time I did not hesitate, readily agreeing to their plans. Unfortunately this city, which they named the Crystarium, would be vulnerable as any to sin eater attacks, and I did not have the resources to watch over it while working towards my goal."

"One engineer jokingly proposed a moat, an idea which sparked the eventual solution. I surrendered a bit more of my body to collapse the land immediately surrounding the Crystal Tower, creating a natural barrier against the majority of the sin eaters. Aerial threats would be handled by the defenses, while a newly established Crystarium Guard would be responsible for any assaults outside of their range."

"A whole city…" Stars formed in G'raha's wide eyes. "Can I see it? Did it succeed? Oh I hope it did."

A series of images played over the mirror, showcasing the Crystarium during its many stages of development. At the final image the Exarch paused, near-crippling pangs of longing and regret taking hold of him. The arrival of his younger self back at his side helped bring him out of it. "'Tis a beautiful place. I cannot wait to explore it in your memories."

"Although…" Tapping his foot to the floor, G'raha studied the finished Crystarium. "Such a feat must not have been easy considering circumstances. How long did it take to build?"

"Ten years."

Crimson fur puffed almost comically as G'raha repeatedly looked between his older self and the Crystarium. "TEN? How long did it take to catch up to the proper point in time to contact Yhuven?"

"…"

No answer came. Suddenly the floor held the Exarch's full attention. G'raha squatted to gaze up at him, his fur calming down. "You don't have to say," he began, eyes full of sympathy, "since I know how we are. It was a long time, wasn't it? And I'm going to guess from the Allagan scholar-king inspired robes and staff that everyone chose _you_ to lead them, though you didn't want to. We may have jumped at the chance to lead a group like NOAH or something similar that played to our strengths, but heading a city full of so many lives is…"

He jumped back to his feet and carefully placed a hand on the Exarch's head. "'Pieces of you.' No wonder you're so tired - adding more unwanted responsibility to your already heavy load, and then leaving you to carry that alone for so long. But Yhuven was proud of you when he arrived, wasn't he?"

"I couldn't…" The words threatened to choke the older Miqo'te, but he pressed on in a faint voice. "I couldn't tell him who I was…even though I waited a hundred years to see him…"

To his credit only G'raha's ears reflected his surprise, his expression turning soft. Without interrupting by speaking he curled his fingers ever so slightly into the Exarch's hair, soothing him through gentle petting that took him back to childhood days of his parents doing the same when he returned home after a day of bullying trying to look brave.

It helped immediately. Returning the respect in kind the Exarch cleared his throat and continued. "In the time since the Flood, it had been observed that the sin eaters, while seemingly mindless in their attacks, would sometimes join in concerted efforts similar to the one I awakened to. Having so many refugees centered in one place allowed them to pool information and confirm several sightings of larger, smarter, more powerful than normal sin eaters who were granted the title 'Lightwardens'. We concluded they were responsible for controlling the smaller sin eaters like a hive mind."

"Given stories of similar patterns of sin eater behavior across Norvrandt, it was highly likely a Lightwarden resided in each remaining area. This made our starting goal simple: root out and eliminate the Lightwardens to ease the First's burdens."

Throughout the Exarch's narration the petting hadn't ceased. For a moment he thought to ask G'raha to let him be, but lately he'd decided to act more selfish. _Just a bit more…_ He promised himself. "Vira, the Hyuran woman who stood by my side that day, had been appointed the captain of the Crystarium Guard. She possessed a single-minded purpose in destroying the sin eaters after being the sole survivor from her home, and endlessly pursued any leads into the whereabouts of Lakeland's Lightwarden, eventually narrowing its location to a remote cave system. By then I had been given the title of 'Crystal Exarch' by the Crystarium's residents, conveying me enough importance that I could not join in the venture though it was within striking distance of the Crystal Tower. And so, I received word of my friend's success from the sole survivor of the assault." 

The petting drew to an end, G'raha lowering his hand to pay better attention, and it was immediately missed. "A few hours after Vira's departure a peculiar ripple in the Light enveloping Lakeland revealed the true daytime sky for a mere fraction of a second. Minutes later it happened once more, leaving me curious as to its cause."

"Shortly afterward a single Crystarium guard, one of the fifty Vira took with her, stumbled his way to the front gates. Having only barely made it back, he managed to relay the outcome of the mission before passing from his wounds - the Lightwarden had been slain. As they stood around its corpse in triumph, however, an enormous surge in light aether left its body, leaping to that of the Guard who slew it. The man writhed in agony, the Light twisting and transforming him until once again, they were confronted by the Lightwarden. The fight resumed, this time Vira herself landing the killing blow, and she too became the Lightwarden."

Unfortunately, as the Exarch recalled the scene at the Crystarium's newly completed entryway, cheerful remnants of celebration fluttering in the breeze providing the backdrop for the guard's nightmarish tale and abrupt death, he could not keep it from playing on the mirror. All he had wanted then was to lose himself in despair, not just for the injustice of his brave friend's fate, but also the conclusion he knew would be confirmed when he consulted Syrcus Tower. "After examining the data collected for the day, I confirmed the abnormalities in the Light coincided with the moments the Lightwarden was slain. From our failure, and from the corruption of the pixie king Titania after their slaying Il Mheg's Lightwarden not long after, we deduced two facts about Lightwardens: whosoever landed a killing blow on one was immediately consumed by its Light and took its place, and this occurred because the Lightwardens were the source of the Light slowly consuming Norvrandt."

"So you had to wait a hundred years, knowing your eventual fate would be taking the Light into yourself and the Tower, the only containers able to hold it temporarily without losing themselves…and then leaving with it into the Rift, saving both worlds at the expense of your life." G'raha offered, pausing for confirmation before continuing. "Since Yhuven would never allow you to be sacrificed you had to keep your identity from him when he arrived, meaning you also had to hide it from the people around you, or at least swear them to secrecy."

He tapped a finger to his cheek thoughtfully. "Though you couldn't fight these Lightwardens yourself, even if you were capable, so how were they slain? Powerful though it may be the Crystal Tower would only be able to hold so much Light for a few moments at best. And not even Yhuven can be in five places at once!"

"Hmph." Was all the Exarch had to say about G'raha's last sentence. "But an important question. I turned a researcher's eye to it for many years, continuously building and testing models for each to come up short." Just thinking about that time put a small ache between his eyes. "I even explored finding a way to lure all the Lightwardens to Lakeland to slay them simultaneously. Unfortunately, the odds of the sudden mass infusion of Light instantly obliterating the Tower, and the chain reaction then obliterating Lakeland and taking the whole of the First with it, never went lower than ninety-nine percent."

"No, I would not find a solution. But one would make itself known years after my arrival. News of a young girl from Ahm Araeng who survived a sin eater attack without being corrupted spread across Norvrandt like wildfire…a young girl sporting both the name and features of Minfilia. Seizing on the opportunity and having the superior military Eulmore took her in, training her for combat while testing to see if she was the reincarnation of Norvrandt's savior or not. In time she eventually found her end on a battlefield but, from her incorruptibility to her ability to manipulate Light there was no doubt she _was_ Minfilia. And she would not be the last - several times she was felled and reborn, each incarnation bearing the same name, countenance, and abilities."

G'raha's eyes lit up. "So she-"

"-absolutely could not hold the aether of a Lightwarden long enough. That was how the first Minfilia passed." The Exarch didn't let him finish. "It was widely thought she could, and thus Eulmore immediately set out after Kholusia's Lightwarden. It would take them several years to find, but when they did Minfilia easily battled it and won, taking in its Light and bringing night back to the area for a single day. When she returned the next to clear out the Lightwarden's den, however, the Light began to overtake her, and her fellow Eulmoreans were made to watch as she ended her own life before her soul was consumed. The Light then passed to a nearby sin eater, returning the Lightwarden and Kholusia's eternal daytime."

"Then what in Seven Hells _was_ the solution??"

Seeing his frustration reflected in his younger self's face and voice gave the Exarch affirmation he hadn't known he'd needed. "In a conversation we had not long before her fateful encounter, she expressed misgivings about her ability to contain the Lightwarden's essence. The power passed to her by Hydaelyn provided the means to manipulate the Light and immunity to normal sin eaters, yet it had taken the sacrifices of four Warriors of Light to halt the Flood. She believed without another Hydaelyn-blessed Warrior's assistance her death was at hand. I prayed fervently for her to be wrong…because if she wasn't, there existed only one other known person who held enough blessings from Hydaelyn to have the smallest chance at success."

"Yhuven." A deathly pall cast over G'raha's features. "You used Yhuven. You _used_ Yhuven!" Though his voice cracked on the emphasis, G'raha's expression held no judgment. "Deceived him too I'm sure - if he caught wind of your plan he'd surely throw himself into the Rift instead. As if you had a choice to tell him. No, you never had a choice did you? From the second your eyes opened you've only had the _illusion_ of choice!"

He paced back and forth, agitated. "Help the Ironworks or the world ends. Merge with the Tower or the world ends. Sacrifice yourself and manipulate the person you love most or the world ends!!" G'raha threw up his hands angrily. "And you held tight to this knowledge for nearly a hundred years while overseeing a city where no one could know your name or face, no one could offer you the smallest succor in your distress? How? How did you not lose your mind??"

"I did."

The pacing stopped. "The more my models returned successful results for allowing Yhuven to contain Norvrandt's Light until I could take it and leave, and also for deeply damaging his soul in the process, the more my sanity became lost. There," the Exarch pointed at an innocent-seeming pile of books, "examine those."

G'raha approached the pile. Curiously he lifted the top book, then the next, repeating until he reached the sixth one in. "Huh...oh!"

He held the well-worn writing in both hands fondly. "A copy of _The Way of the Whimsical Poet_. The first Allagan tome we ever translated..." Pages flipped by beneath nostalgic fingers until a handful of out-of-place sheets caught G'raha's attention. "What are these?"

Shame set the Exarch's face aflame as his younger self pulled one out and began reading aloud. "'Proposition Nineteen: Survival on the First. Given the Ascians' primary goal of reuniting the Shards with the Source, history has shown they will ignore any powers that present no threat to that goal. As such, if the Crystal Tower is not used against them models provide only a two percent probability of it coming under attack. Yhuven shows a ninety-seven percent probability of being susceptible to coercion if informed of my imminent demise across all scenarios - with my support to assuage his guilt he can be convinced to abandon interfering with the Ascians' work. Remaining within Syrcus Tower through the First's Rejoining should prove a safe haven, though there may be unforeseen side effects. Further simulations needed for additional data collection.'"

"'Proposition Twenty-One: Survival in the Rift. The repercussions of remaining on a Rejoined Shard yet not participating in the Rejoining are far too unpredictable to be simulated, rendering the scenario invalid. Better odds lie with sending the Crystal Tower to the Rift until either the Ascians fully reunite the Shards or their efforts are thwarted and the remaining worlds stabilize. The energy expenditure required to send the Tower back into the Rift, Light-tainted as it now is, has a hundred percent probability of turning my entire body to crystal, however. To alleviate this drawback, '" G'raha's nose wrinkled, the page crumpling in his tightened grasp as he growled out the remaining words, "'the aether of the populace of Norvrandt could be substituted instead, yielding highly favorable results in preliminary models.'"

It occurred to the Exarch he was proving the case _against_ being allowed to remain, not for it. Even so, failing to expose the ugliness in his heart didn't seem the correct path either. "While none of my twenty years of foul speculation came to fruition, the pain I eventually wrought upon Yhuven, and upon his fellow Scions whom also became caught up in this affair through my incompetence…all of it will be my sin to bear for the rest of my existence."

"Enough."

The Exarch's heart weighed heavy at G'raha's expression. His younger self shook his head repeatedly, blankly watching as he let the findings and diagrams drift to the floor. "You need not say another word about this, about your journey and your trials. It's…too much…" He clutched at his chest.

"Ah...I understand…"

G'raha rushed back to the distraught Exarch, clasping his free hand in a strangely reassuring gesture. "No, you truly do not. You see, when I read those I didn't feel disgust - only sadness…and understanding. Had I been in your place, scared and desperate for some modicum of control over a hopeless course I didn't chart, I would have done no different I think. But I thought I was asking you to tell me a story full of triumph and adventure. Instead my voyeurism has caused your failures and pain to weigh on you so heavily you're projecting them to me in fragments that strike my mind deep as arrows. _That_ is what is too much. I'm sorry."

"So..." The older Miqo'te eased his question out slowly, partly to regain control of his raging emotions, partly because the coming decision was already crushing him. "Have you decided what to do with me then?"

"Not quite yet."

Glass pinged at the thoughtful tapping of G'raha's finger to the mirror. The view changed back to R'yhuven singing. Dark rings had begun to form around his eyes. "I already know your story has a happy ending despite everything being against you. The rest I can see through your memories, except."

"E...except?" The Exarch repeated nervously.

"Except!" Smugly, G'raha switched the view again by waving, then planted his hands on his hips. "There's someone who's been on your mind to where their name has been a constant backdrop for your thoughts since you first mentioned the Crystarium. And just now, when you mentioned your twenty years of planning, the volume rose to a near screaming pitch."

The face on the mirror riled the Exarch's emotions once more. "For your last chapter, Crystal Exarch, tell me about Lyna."


	16. Étoile - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'raha giggled deliriously and reached for the floating figure. Their pout turned to annoyance as he squished and stretched their face between his hands. "How cute. And the sensory feedback is incredibly realistic. This feels like how I might imagine a real pixie."
> 
> "Thish ish not your imaginashun!"
> 
> _Smack!_
> 
> "Oww!!" Yelping, G'raha jumped backward, his cheeks stinging from having been clapped in response.
> 
> "My name is Feo Ul, and I am a real pixie, thank you _very_ much!" Their cross demeanor eased as they took back up floating in front of G'raha. "But I suppose you _would_ be surprised wouldn't you - I didn't do the ritual of your world correctly! So..."
> 
> They spun in place happily, hands clasped and trails of their magic tinkling softly. "Happy Starlight!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up - all chapters in the "Étoile" part of this fic will also be posted as a separate fic of the same title. They're both exactly the same, however, typos and all, so no need to read both if you're already here!

No matter how many times G'raha cracked open the books penned about R'yhuven by Muirenval, the vibrancy of the Warrior of Light's personal life always made for welcome reading. He could never tire of them - it had already been over forty years since he uncovered _The Loves and Lives of the Warrior of Light_ , and he turned to the series again and again, every detailed page a bastion of solace in the turbulent storm of G'raha's emotions.

Today he read while awaiting the results from his latest model regarding using the people of Norvrandt to fuel the Crystal Tower's return to the Rift bearing G'raha and R'yhuven alone. There were adjustments needed to compensate for the Light-charged properties of everything on the First - once they were worked out G'raha could begin calculating exactly how much of Norvrandt's populace would need to be sacrificed, and how to bring them all to Lakeland.

As G'raha snap shut the day's reading, breaking the illusion he attended R'yhuven's final Starlight concert, the cheerful notes pouring from R'yhuven's harp and the audience's cheers after each piece nearly audible to G'raha's ears, he queried the time. "Two hundred hours already. Happy Starlight then, I suppose," he sighed at the silent tomes scattered around him. Something rustled on a nearby shelf, but a brief examination revealed it to be no more than a figment of his imagination, same as the other times he had perceived strange noises or misplaced items around the Tower. _Every day I grow more weary, this is only natural._

The Umbilicus' doors closed behind him soon after, shutting out the piles of books, plans, and a single holiday decoration G'raha had salvaged during his time in Ishgard hanging from a hook on the wall. Count Edmont's _Heavensward_ held details on how the Warrior of Light helped spread the Ishgardian traditions of their Starlight celebration across Eorzea, making G'raha desperate to recover some remnant of what the holiday had once been like.

By a stroke of luck, before fighting overtook the Fortemps Manor he found a small snowman ornament in the basement. Upon his return to Mor Dhona Drisette teased the trinket's existence out of him, and they snuck supplies from her camp to throw themselves a makeshift Starlight celebration for two. That memory was one of his fondest after his awakening, and before the day passed he would indulge in it via simulation. _My own tradition, forty solitary years and counting._

Out in the Ocular time on the Source continued to move past the scrying mirror's surface at a crawl. When G'raha still felt optimistic about saving the First he spent all his free time planted in front of the glass, intently observing R'yhuven make history right before his eyes. Nowadays he only peeked on rare occasion - his main 'interaction' with the device was a spell set to alert G'raha of any changes in the time difference between the Source and the First.

Thoughts of the snowman weakened his resolve, however, and he put a hand to its surface, the irrational disappointment G'raha knew he would feel at it not being Starlight on the Source adding to his exhaustion. The model had been calculating for a week, exacting a gradually increasing toll on G'raha's aether he could easily negate with sleep.

Unfortunately, his demons ran _much_ faster in the dark.

Facing Chessamile and her bitter potions was a far more palatable prospect. Casually, he exited the Ocular, unable to stop the faint hitch of breath that always accompanied the application of his glamours. As a precaution G'raha made it so that if the magic obscuring his face and keeping his hood pinned upright was missing, or his tail or ears were still enabled, it would all be corrected on the way out. Rare were the times he received visitors in the Ocular, and the last thing G'raha wanted was to spend his time alone playing the part of Crystal Exarch, leading to at least the glamour magic passing over him upon every exit.

_Time to behave like a decent leader. Hopefully with it being so early I can slip in and out of Spagyrics without encountering many people. Although I swear Chessamile doesn't sleep either…_

G'raha's musings carried him down to Syrcus Tower's bottom floor and through the gates. To his relief only a small handful of souls wandered through the Exedra, a smile plastering itself to his lips preemptively for the impending gauntlet.

"Good morning Exarch!"

 _Stablehand. Around twenty years old. Thirty units._ "May your morning be well."

"Early morn to you sir!"

 _Shopkeep. In their late forties. Fifty units._ "I see you're getting a fine start on the day."

"I-it's the Crystal Exarch!"

The greenhorn Crystarium guard stationed midway across the courtyard turned an unflattering shade of red as G'raha approached his post. His shaky hands held a Thaumaturge's staff, which he fumbled with in an attempt to form a salute. "All clear sir!"

"At ease." G'raha bowed courteously, using the opportunity to scan over him. _Mage - young, but with high magical potential. Two hundred units._

Since fate conspired to treat G'raha's life as a game, he had decided to play one in return of his own making, namely "How Much Aether Will This Person Provide For My Needs?" As the two men engaged in an exchange from which G'raha was entirely detached, the Miqo'te summoned his typical justification for dehumanizing the Crystarium's residents - he couldn't save the First anyway, so they might as well find purpose in his plans.

"Oh!" The guard finally did as he was bade, the wooden staff coming to rest, disarmed by the Crystal Exarch's friendly demeanor. "Chessamile mentioned that if you came this way to tell you Spagyrics has an unexpected guest, so it might be busier than normal."

 _Just what I need…_ G'raha mentally groaned. "Thank you for informing me. Be safe."

Leaving a swooning man in his wake failed to register with G'raha's now busy mind. Word of a guest who wasn't worthy of immediately notifying him piqued his long neglected curiosity, hurrying his steps towards the small spark of excitement.

\--

"WAAAAAAAH!!"

An earth-shattering wail greeted him as he entered Spagyrics. A set of Viis ears bobbed above the group of chirurgeons surrounding one of the beds alongside Chessamile, and G'raha slipped in among them.

"There, there, don't cry little one." Murmured a Viis woman situated on the bed. In her arms she rocked a kit back and forth, the first to ever grace the Crystarium, though the kit seemed more annoyed than soothed. A tousled patch of fluffy light blue hair framed the reddened face of an infant who, if G'raha were to assign the look a mood, was furious at the entire world and the fact they existed in it, and took up screaming again to let everyone in their vicinity know their displeasure.

"What do we do…" Chessamile frowned intently, then jumped at seeing G'raha in the crowd. "Exarch! Apologies for not noticing you sooner."

The young Elf apothecary was the up and coming star of Spagyrics. The child of a couple among the original refugees to inhabit the Tower, Chessamile quickly earned herself a place among the city's healers for both her knowledge of plants and potions, and her quick wit. G'raha knew of her expertise first-hand, as she concocted the potion for his aether within a day, and remained steadfast in forcing one of the most powerful people on Norvrandt to drink it in her presence every time he requested it rather than sleep. Out of pure respect he kept his sense of taste enabled while doing so - she deserved his reaction, and he deserved the punishment.

So if a problem had her vexed it was difficult indeed. The tiny Viis began to cry _and_ scream, leading Chessamile to pull G'raha and the standing Viis woman away from the bed to talk while the remaining chirurgeons fawned over the kit. "At the stroke of midnight a patrol found the kit bundled up beneath a tree near Tessellation with a pile of belongings we can only assume were their parents'. Problem is, they're starving but we don't know what to feed them."

"Our kits have very sensitive stomachs my Lord," the other woman explained humbly, "and the milks and cereals suitable for other young will do little for a kit, if they even manage to keep them down."

"Knowing we have the only two Viis in the Crystarium here, it is apparent we have no appropriate wet nurses available." G'raha mused out loud. "Is there anyone in Sullen or Holminster who may be inclined to help for a reward?"

Chessamile shrugged in defeat. "I tried as far as Eulmore. There's none."

"And there are no known formulas either?"

"No..." Gesturing plaintively at G'raha, the Viis woman resumed explaining. "In our culture all kits are sired in the same cycle. With so many births happening around the same time there is never a lack of milk, no matter the circumstances. We Viis have never needed to feed our young anything else so no such formula exists."

That didn't sit right with G'raha. "I hate to sound inconsiderate, but are kits ever intolerant to milk?"

"Only the fittest are able to survive in our society my Lord."

"I see." It wasn't a productive exercise to offer a critique of Viis culture. "We will need to come up with one then. Can we do it before they starve?"

At that Chessamile's gaze hardened. "I'll try, but as you well know resources are in short supply, as is time. We can barely keep up with the steady stream of wounded Guards and refugees, and they simply _must_ take priority for the good of the Crystarium. Which is why I chose not to darken your desk with the matter - this may be a lost cause, and you need not concern yourself with the fate of a single infant."

"That is…" 'Correct' was the next appropriate word, and it left G'raha's lips as it needed to. With a small bow the Viis returned to the kit's bedside, their entourage having quieted them for the moment. Chessamile and G'raha fell into their usual ritual of administering the potion, and as the familiar medicinal blend turned G'raha's tongue into a focal point of despair while rejuvenating his overtaxed body Spagyrics seemed back to normal.

Or at least until the wet sound of projectile vomit accompanied by several resigned sighs led to renewed protests against the complications of living. G'raha stepped back, indicating Chessamile was free to tend to her guest, and began his return trip to the Umbilicus. The kit's hungry wails carried far across the Exedra, chasing him relentlessly, his feet picking up speed in an attempt to _make them stop_.

\--

In a blink the Ocular doors were closing behind him. Usually the faint glow of the scrying mirror and the rhythmic thrum of power coursing through the Crystal Tower were enough to steady G'raha's nerves, at least enough for him to stumble into the Umbilicus and take up a longer lasting distraction of his choosing. Today, however, he slid down the cool wood to rest on the floor, helplessness from his time in Mor Dhona welling up from memories G'raha had worked hard to suppress.

_Why can't I get them out of my mind? Why do I care - Chessamile has the right of it, and it isn't as if I hold the people of the First in high regard. So then..._

Images of the poor kit being given food it couldn't keep down over and over again in the name of necessity sat poorly in what used to be G'raha's stomach. He hugged his knees to himself, the crystal comprising his right arm reflecting light into his eyes as proof of his own force-fed meals, and gathered himself up enough to stand. _My notes...my notes can chase away this ache..._

Little did G'raha know what awaited him. Routine carried him across the Umbilicus into his familiar chair, preventing him from seeing exactly what state the room was in until something squeaked when he tried to sit.

The snowman had gained several friends. Decorations from what must have been the breadth of Eorzea, and possibly even beyond, covered every ilm of the room. Pumpkins and ghosts mingled with paper lanterns and cherry blossoms. Plates of what G'raha guessed were odango sat haphazardly atop his book piles, as did tree-shaped cookies, or what were trying their best to look like tree-shaped cookies. Paper folded to emulate dragons held sparklers, and reaching beneath him revealed an inflatable duck floatie.

"What is the meaning of _this_??" Was all G'raha could muster in the midst of so much chaos.

"Aha! You're finally back!"

A voice came from above him. "It took you so long to find my surprise, _and_ you didn't accept my gift, but I'll forgive you [caretaker of fate]."

Fear the likes of which G'raha hadn't felt in decades ran through him. "H-!"

Tiny hands slapped his lips shut, the arms attached to them blocking his view from atop his head. Their owner flipped over him afterward, a small, winged figure colored in pinks and oranges orienting themselves in mid-air with said arms now folded, pouting. "And not even a 'thank you' from my friend either. When I found so many lovely gifts on your world simply waiting for me to bring you I thought everyone there very kind, but perhaps not, hmph!"

"This is it. I have fully broken." Everything happening was too surreal - it was the only explanation. "The Crystal Tower has made my delusions manifest, and now the time has come for me to live with my senses betraying me at last. I imagined it being more disturbing but..."

G'raha giggled deliriously and reached for the floating figure. Their pout turned to annoyance as he squished and stretched their face between his hands. "How cute. And the sensory feedback is incredibly realistic. This feels like how I might imagine a real pixie."

"Thish ish not your imaginashun!"

_Smack!_

"Oww!!" Yelping, G'raha jumped backward, his cheeks stinging from having been clapped in response.

"My name is Feo Ul, and I am a real pixie, thank you _very_ much!" Their cross demeanor eased as they took back up floating in front of G'raha. "But I suppose you _would_ be surprised wouldn't you - I didn't do the ritual of your world correctly! So..."

They spun in place happily, hands clasped and trails of their magic tinkling softly. "Happy Starlight!"

Silence fell between them. Feo Ul's ecstatic grin held as G'raha slowly processed it all - the state of the Umbilicus, the errant pixie not only inside the Tower but also professing familiarity with him, and last but certainly not least, their declaration they had traveled to the Source. Knowing what he did of pixies he surmised that had Feo Ul intended to do him harm they wouldn't be putting on such an elaborate showing, meaning they were likely amenable to conversing.

And besides, how long had it been since he last heard those two simple words?

"Happy Starlight Feo Ul." G'raha replied at last, the tension leaving his overburdened shoulders with an exhaled breath. "You have certainly made my study much more…festive."

"Do you like it? I worked so very hard to decorate for you!" The overjoyed pixie surveyed their work with pride. Their gaze stopped on a nearby plate of cookies, dashing over to bring it back for G'raha. "Here here, I made them myself!"

"Why thank you," he started, biting into the cookie without hesitation. Feo Ul lit up watching it go down.

It tasted of chicken.

For the first time G'raha was glad for the control over his senses, as he could continue without hurting Feo Ul's feelings. When he finished, to his guest's approval, he decided to appeal to their ego and uncover some answers. "If I may ask my friend, where did you obtain all these wonderful baubles?"

"On my trip to your world to get them for you so I could help you celebrate of course!" Feo Ul gushed in excitement, their gossamer wings nearly impossible to see for how quickly they fluttered. "How long I've watched and read alongside you whenever I came to visit. That's how I always find you - reading, watching, and reading! But when I first visited you were sad about something called 'Starlight', which to me sounded as though it should be fun. Imagine my surprise at discovering from your strange aether you came from a completely different world, and that I could travel there! I simply _had_ to go, even though it meant being gone from here for a while!"

They rubbed their hands together, a greedy grin spreading over their cherubic features. "All this is mine and mine alone, including you!"

 _I hope that isn't as ominous as it sounds._ "You won't tell anyone where I'm from then?"

"Of-course-not!" Feo Ul punctuated each word with a jab to G'raha's nose. "Not only would that let everyone else in on _my_ fun, wouldn't it ruin your plans?"

G'raha's head was spinning. Maybe it was the chicken cookies. "Which plans do you mean?"

"The ones to turn everyone in Norvrandt into aether so you can hide away with your lover!"

The pixie suddenly grew concerned, placing their hands to G'raha's faintly stinging cheeks. "Are you unwell? You look so pale. Is that why you didn't take your gift? When I made it back and looked through your new shiny writings it said Viis had the most aether, and while it's _actually_ we pixies who would be the best at that, I thought you'd like one, to help."

"Although," their voice softened, "I would be happy to come with you. Since I can go to and fro I could bring you plenty more trinkets _and_ see if it's safe for you to return to your home without you having to worry."

Now a full headache roared inside G'raha's ringing head. Every word coming out of Feo Ul seemed nonsensical, except the Umbilicus' current state was proof they were being truthful. "So if I may summarize: you visited me at least a year ago at this time, learned I came from another world, travelled to that world, brought back ornaments, read my notes, and then brought a Viis kit to the Crystarium…just to cheer me up?"

Feo Ul nodded vigorously. "I did, I did! Aren't I the best and most thoughtful of friends?"

_Friends…though this is our first true meeting, and they've seen what I mean to do, they would still say we're friends…_

Tears pricked G'raha's lonely, crimson eyes. "The absolute best, Feo Ul."

"Then come on, let's get your gift!" Those ominous words came back to G'raha as Feo Ul, in a surprising show of strength, jerked him to his feet. "I even brought you their parents' things too. Poor fluffy couple ran from the forest to start a family in hiding away from the other Viis, but as soon as they did _poof_! A sin eater ate them."

G'raha collected himself with a sigh of relief Feo Ul hadn't spirited the kit away. Their angry, crying face flashed in his mind again, however. He _had_ to do something. "Do you happen to have seen if they were doing aught else but nursing the kit before they passed?" As expected, the pixie indicated they had not. "Then we have an issue. There are no Viis we can find able to provide milk and no known substitutes to feed them."

_Smack!_

"Oww!!"

Feo Ul motioned angrily around the room. "You have all these books, those funny colored blocks I always see you reading, _and_ the curious device outside that you're using for your plans. Use all of them to figure out how to _save your gift!_ " They stomped their foot, screeching the last few words.

Though G'raha's cheeks and what simulated his hearing both rang, he wanted to add kicking himself to his current discomfort. "You are exactly right." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The people who built this tower were known for conquering nations and performing experiments on living beings. Viis are scarce on my world as well, making it all the more likely they sought some out and attempted to raise their young by scientific means. Let me check the Tower's catalog for any relevant information - this may take a while, if you wanted to do something more exciting until I finished."

"What could be more exciting than helping my friend? Oh happy day!" Feo Ul pushed G'raha back into the chair with glee.

As they flitted about the room admiring their handiwork, G'raha cast a sentimental glance at his snowman friend, images of him and Drisette celebrating in secret a thoughtful backdrop as he queried the catalog.

[Warning: Requested query requires more resources than are currently available. Please suspend any excess computational processes and retry.]

There was only one process running - G'raha's model. He paused it for now, leaving a reminder to restart it when his business was concluded, and settled into the chair while he and Syrcus Tower combed through the extensive libraries at their disposal.

\--

Three hours later the pair sat on the Umbilicus floor, piles of empty plates, unadorned sticks, books, and tomestones surrounding them. Every text that contained the word 'Viera' (a term Feo Ul was now enamored with) had been teleported to their location.

Unable to read Allagan, Feo Ul was providing support by cramming G'raha full of their culinary creations. So far the cookies and odango all tasted like meat, yet were also surprisingly efficient for bolstering his aether, if not suspiciously similar to pet treats.

"Here!!"

At G'raha's shout the pixie appeared inside the book he had cracked open, obscuring the pages. "What what what? Did you find something useful?"

"I believe I have." Gently, G'raha moved them aside to read. Taking the hint Feo Ul opted to hover on the book's opposite side. "This is a list of supplies sent to a colony with a sizeable Viera population. Now, if I use the colony's name to narrow down my search…"

A tomestone took the place Feo Ul had vacated. G'raha pulled up its display and quickly swiped through the stored data. "This is it! Allagan researchers separated the colony's kits from their parents, and in doing so needed to craft a formula to feed them. We found it Feo Ul!"

"Isn't it for ingredients on your world?"

G'raha was one step ahead of them. He toppled a nearby stack of notes, not caring one iota as they scattered every which way, to reach the blank paper underneath. "It is," he replied while hastily grabbing a pen, "but Chessamile should be able to find the matching ingredients here if I provide the properties they need."

The instant the last word was inked G'raha flew for the Ocular. "I'll return soon!"

"Oh no you don't!" Feo Ul blinked onto his head, clinging to his hair. "I'm hiding up here to make _absolutely sure_ you take your gift! And don't think your human glamours can best me!"

Their words barely registered. He gave the barest of nods, then rushed out and down the hall. Not even the spell could interrupt the wild stirring of his heart.

\--

Neverending light beat down on G'raha's back as he briskly walked towards Spagyrics for the second time in less than half the day. Unfortunately his position meant he couldn't run without causing alarm among the much larger throngs of people traversing the Crystarium. The guard from before certainly noticed him again, however, another blush betraying his admiration of the Exarch as robes brushed by him on the way past.

"Lord Exarch, is something the matter?" Chessamile left her station to meet him.

"Only that you do not seem to find your own rest-"

She folded her arms, brooking no further words on the topic.

"-but that can wait for another day. How is the kit?"

"No better." Though she attempted to look composed the answer visibly weighed on Chessamile, heavy lines creasing her young face. "They cried themselves to sleep after throwing up several more attempts to fill their poor belly."

G'raha handed her his note. "Try this. The people of my homeland concocted a substitute that should fit our needs, provided we have suitable ingredients."

The master apothecary fell silent, reading down the page carefully. "Yes, yes - I know what we need! These are rather common plants so it shouldn't be a burden to produce."

Leaving G'raha and Feo Ul in the center of the room Chessamile began rifling through the Spagyrics stores. "Here, here, and we're out of…let me call the botanists at Sweetsieve…"

In ten minutes water was boiling and everything was on hand. The process of cooking the various herbs and grains into gruel, then straining the solids out to produce liquid for a bottle, thoroughly held G'raha's nervous attention. As Chessamile capped the glass off with a nipple and they headed towards the nursery he clasped his hands together to keep them from betraying him.

One could forget the trials the kit had gone through watching them peacefully sleep in the nursery among the other orphaned infants. Chessamile sat the bottle on a nearby table and went to summon an aide, leaving G'raha and Feo Ul alone. Ordinarily G'raha would have waited patiently, but the longer he stood around doing nothing the more he was consumed by the need to do _something_.

Before he could overthink it he scooped the kit into his arms. Fortunately that proved enough to rouse them, sleepy pink eyes opening to take G'raha in. Now he could feel how emaciated they truly were he picked up the bottle with determination, and though he fumbled slightly managed to prop the kit up and get the nipple between their lips. They took on new life at the first draw, ears wiggling and feet kicking as they drank with zeal. Joy and calm both settled over G'raha as he eased into a seat, getting them both comfortable.

By the time Chessamile returned with help most of the bottle had disappeared. "Well I'll be. You can get back to what you were doing." She waved the aide back to his post. G'raha acknowledged her by inclining his head but nothing more. "They haven't gotten down more than a few spoonfuls of food without sending them back to us since they arrived. I suppose I'll get to work making more of your miracle formula and get the kit into the regular feeding rounds."

"I will do it."

The apothecary's eyebrows threatened to leave her forehead. "You'll…what?"

A satisfied 'pop' signified the kit had finished and released the bottle. Their sunken cheeks sported a touch of color, coos of pure baby contentment letting the world know they rescinded their protests for now. G'raha knew he would have become enamored by the tiny fighter even without Feo Ul's insistence. "I will take care of them. You have limited room in the nursery, correct?"

"Yes, but!" Chessamile sputtered incredulously. "Surely you have more pressing duties?"

G'raha swaddled the kit, promptly sending them back to sleep, and gave his favorite person in Spagyrics his most authoritative yet calm stare. "This, I believe, is my most pressing duty of all. I will set up a supply box with Sweetsieve, and I have already memorized the formula preparation with your help. By your leave."

A wry smile graced G'raha's lips, and with that Chessamile offered no further protests - though she might have been the more outwardly direct one in their friendship, she had quickly learned the Exarch's stubbornness was nothing to be trifled with. "Of course. If you encounter _any_ trouble I want to see you two back here. And you'd better schedule regular check-ups. Now shoo!"

\--

In different times, the Ocular and the Umbilicus were only two of the many rooms G'raha used within Syrcus Tower. Since coming to the First, however, as his hope shrank so did the places he roamed, forsaking his private chambers for endless reading and plotting in the Umbilicus. As sleep's sweet embrace was no longer needed to sustain him, what use did he have of a comfortable place to lie in its arms?

Fortunately time held no sway over the condition of objects within the Tower. Thus, though it had been decades since G'raha last set foot in his room it remained precisely as he had left it, not a single new speck of dust to welcome him back.

Feo Ul flew from their perch, settling on the side of the room's elaborate bed. Staying in the emperor's chambers had been an option, but G'raha declined in favor of more humble (and less gaudy) accommodations. Nothing within the Tower was permitted to be less than grand unfortunately, the "simple" bed resting atop a dais and covered with pillows and patterned sheets.

G'raha climbed up and into bed, lying down with the comfortably sleeping kit tucked in beside him. "Ah, no fair!" The curious pixie exclaimed in shock. They quickly took to lying on the kit's other side on their back. "There! I won't be outdone by my gift! Oh, did you do this?"

Constellations wound across the darkly painted ceiling. After realizing the night would never come to his new home, he had painted the space overhead as a reminder of where he was from and what he now had to fight for. "I did..." He answered, caught up in recalling how enthusiastic he used to be about his role and abilities. "To remind me of what was at stake a long time ago."

"It's lovely. They make me feel as though I'm flying in the skies of your world once more."

Feo Ul yawned, slowly stretching their arms and wings. "Speaking of which, spending ten years there has truly made me tired, so I'm going to sleep. We're making a room for them later, aren't we?"

"A room? Yes…definitely, certainly. Full of all the things Viis kits need such as...umm..."

His uncertainty was met with a grin. "All of them. I'm sure my knowledgeable friend already has plans for a bassinet-"

"…"

"-and toys-"

"……"

"-and of course, _plenty_ of diapers."

Had it been possible sweat would be running down G'raha's back. He hadn't the faintest clue how to take care of a baby - the only reason he had gotten the bottle right was thanks to instructions left next to the formula recipe. "O-of course, of course. You can rest assured when you wake you will be impressed by my creations."

"Hnn. For your first, what will their name be?"

A name. He'd forgotten his new charge lacked one. First thing that came to mind was the Allagan word for 'snowman', but while he owed the ornament a great deal for somehow bringing him to this point G'raha knew he could do better.

"Hmm..."

Perhaps the stars held the answer. Astromancy formed a cornerstone of Sharlayan life, the stars a constant consult for matters of import. G'raha was no Astrologian, his expertise lying elsewhere, yet nevertheless the vast quantities of knowledge buried in the heavens always fascinated him growing up. He lay on his back, faintly aware of his hood pillowed behind his exposed ears, recalling the various constellations and the stars that comprised them.

"Spica."

"'Spica'." Feo Ul repeated, the name rolling curiously off their tongue. They stretched again, stared deeply at the kit, then nodded to G'raha's relief. "I think it sounds grand. I hope Spica gives you lots and lots of aether when they grow up. Good night!"

They instantly fell asleep - G'raha would have felt jealous, if uneasiness hadn't beaten it out. _Right, aether. That is why I am doing this, no other reason. Them, Chessamile, everyone - the more the Exarch cares for them the easier time I have of it when I leave._

Spica's ears lifted slightly, the kit fidgeting about behind closed eyes. A few strokes of their downy-soft hair and drawing them in close to G'raha quieted them down again. Seeing the crystal of his right hand against the light blue gave him pause, in turn drawing his attention to how the kit's warmth practically radiated through him. Reaching out a bit further, G'raha pulled the sleeping pixie into the pile as well, mildly regretting the measures he had taken to stay awake in the face of such a comfortable scene.

And in the background of his mind a reminder went off, stealing his attention only long enough to be sent back to sleep until later.


	17. Étoile - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Perfect, perfect!" Cheered Feo Ul, Spica giggling in similar sentiment while G'raha carefully wrapped them in the sling and hung it securely from his neck. Adding a touch of magic ensured the arrangement would hold no matter the activity. "Off we go then!" The pixie cast their glamour and took their place in G'raha's hair.
> 
> Spica began wailing. Taken aback G'raha tried to soothe them to no avail. "What could be the matter?" He asked himself aloud. "Perhaps-" His passenger reappeared, and the crying stopped.
> 
> "Huh..." They hummed simultaneously. Feo Ul waited a few seconds, Spica remaining calm all the while, then disappeared again to the tune of resumed crying.
> 
> The weight of parenthood suddenly pulled on G'raha's neck. "We are best friends, aren't we Feo Ul?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time around :) However, I do have something fun - for the first time ever I've gotten a commission of R'yhuven! For anyone curious as to our (not seen in a while) protagonist you can find it here on my Twitter: <https://twitter.com/LeirinNoKoneko/status/1352435158117277696?s=20>
> 
> Also, I enjoy hearing from everyone who's taken the time to read my ramblings! Please don't hesitate to kudos or comment, or message me on Twitter - your happiness keeps me going!

There was work to be done while the newcomers dreamed the morning away. First, a call to Sweetsieve so G'raha could begin preparing bottles for Spica. It was highly likely they would be hungry again the moment they woke. Before leaving G'raha set up a monitor for the room so he would be alerted when Spica awoke and he needed to return.

Thus secured, the supplies were collected, and he set foot towards Spagyrics for his second task and third time that day. A small prayer went up when Chessamile's countenance failed to grace the Exarch on this visit. Instead he was greeted by the head chirurgeon, who having been apprised of the situation handed over Spica's parents' belongings without question. The leader's mask kept G'raha's itching hands from immediately diving into the hefty leather satchel, but couldn't stop him from speeding across the Exedra as fast as decorum allowed so he could review its contents in his room. He did spare a small quirk of his lips at his magically-inclined admirer also not being present - the guard was likely having a good day.

\--

"Hmm..."

Most of what Feo Ul had grabbed was junk: clothing scraps, random utensils, even part of a bush. _This explains their decorating sense..._ G'raha chuckled quietly.

But the cache did yield two items of significance: a bow and a set of chakrams. Each was clearly well-loved, the grips broken in and the wood and metal polished to a lustrous shine. They also bore no signs of recent use, a silent indicator of how swiftly the sin eaters had descended on the Viis couple.

Chakrams were outside G'raha's expertise. No force in the world could stop him from handling the bow, however. Eyes closed, head slightly tilted back in fond nostalgia, he let the wood grain pass beneath fingers what hadn't felt the curve of the weapon of his people since arriving on the First. His bow - loyal companion on his trek to Eorzea, bought at the last second before he left Sharlayan for Mor Dhona as in his excited haste he'd somehow forgotten his usual one - had been stashed behind the throne atop Syrcus Tower before he went to sleep.

Though G'raha's new abilities allowed him to craft any weapon he desired with aether, before he'd had to conceal his identity on the First he always used his physical bow. It was too steeped in memories to be replaced. Now it figuratively rotted away in storage, intentionally placed far from his sight out of grief.

A terrible longing settled into the crevices of G'raha's weary heart. Quick to be rid of it he shoved everything back into the satchel and sent it to the room he planned to be Spica's. _When they're old enough I'll let them have it. No sense trying to hide I'm not their birth parent. In fact, I should inquire with the other resident Viis to see if they would teach Spica about their culture._

The stirring of pixie wings drew G'raha from his musings. "Good morning friend, _yawn_." Feo Ul stretched so comfortably G'raha felt a bit jealous - since merging with the Crystal Tower he had forgotten what fully feeling his body was like. They flew to his side, a final yawn clearing the last remnants of sleep from their face. "Exploring your world was entertaining, but I certainly find better sleep where I belong."

"Did you say you were there for ten years?" G'raha tried not to sound jealous of that as well.

"I did. I knew from your mirror the days would be long. Yet they were a worthy sacrifice for our friendship!" Feo Ul clasped their hands joyfully. "Shall we go decorate your gift's room now?"

Smugly, G'raha teleported them to the vacant room without warning. Surprise quickly turned to delight as Feo Ul patted themselves over, found everything intact, and took up on his shoulder. "Just like I expected from the great [caretaker of fate]! Go on, show me _more_!"

That name again. Knowing proper communication was the foundation of goodwill made learning the fae language a top priority after G'raha settled onto the First. Understanding the affectionate moniker added a sting to its beautiful tones, but he wasn't about to invite hostilities by requesting Feo Ul use something else.

Instead he focused on the trial of the moment: how to decorate the room in a functional way that would appease his audience. A quick query returned several designs for bassinets, dressers, and tables, which G'raha selected one each of in swift order. There was more to a child's room than practicality, however, and for those touches he chose to continue the star motif.

"This should do it." G'raha announced confidently, one hand extended as he gathered and directed the Tower's neverending flow of aether with ease. In a dramatic shower of effervescent blue (absolutely not made more grandiose by the Tower's Administrator), the room transformed from barren to fully furnished and decorated right before Feo Ul's expectant eyes.

"Delightful, simply delightful! My friend is powerful indeed!" The praise trailed behind the intrigued pixie darting about the room in awe. Soft, sky blue now colored the walls, serving as a canvas for an expanded rendition of Norvrandt's former night sky. Under their watch rested the room's functional aspects, each item light-colored wood accented by Tower crystal with a reasonable amount of Allagan flourish. Not only did the crystal add color and light, but as G'raha was the master all objects imbued with the material he could easily keep watch over the room's goings on no matter his location.

All in all, G'raha felt pleased with himself. By Feo Ul's diving into every space they could find he assumed they were as well, but he wanted to hear their thoughts directly. "Is this to your liking?"

"Hmm, al-most!" Feo Ul declared. Fortunately they didn't sound displeased - to the contrary, they seemed further energized by the thought of contributing. "A touch of pixie magic and-"

In a wave of their hands the room gained several more decorations. Their presence coaxed genuine laughter out of G'raha for the first time in decades, a rainbow of large stuffed animals filling the room's corners and placed around the bassinet. Interestingly, G'raha noted the lack of soft toys within the bassinet, another clear indication of Feo Ul's un-pixie-like curiosity about humans.

" _Now_ it's perfect! Oh, how grand, how spectacularly grand! Fit for a..."

Feo Ul waved a finger in the air matter-of-factly. "Large source of aether!"

The room took on a chill. "Right. In this environment they will be sure to flourish." Suddenly everything felt drained of color. "I shall fetch Spica then."

G'raha mechanically turned on one heel and left. His hair tugged in the telltale sign his uncharacteristically quiet companion rode atop his head, something G'raha found himself not minding. _How long has it been since someone touched my head...no, not this again, not now._

Spica hadn't moved. G'raha carefully scooped them up, carrying them to their destination like precious cargo. They awoke, bright-eyed, not long after he arrived. "Good morning little one," he doted over the kit, loosening their blanket and being rewarded with the excited waving of tiny limbs, "and welcome to your new home."

"Daaaa!" Cheerfully, Spica took a handful of G'raha's robes, focusing on him intently as he spoke, then looking about wildly as much as their head let them. Few things could have pleased G'raha more - an energetic, curious kit that hadn't thrown up meant the formula was a true success.

But it _had_ come out in the second most noticeable way possible. The changing table saw its first use, as did G'raha's disabling his nose. "How ever did my parents suffer through this with a Miqo'te's sense of smell, hmm little one?" Came the rhetorical question asked of the source of the issue. They cooed a rather happy answer given the circumstances, and as G'raha cleaned Spica off and closed up their new diaper he grew suspicious they had a winged distraction.

"Having fun Feo Ul?"

"Why what ever might you mean?"

Alighting from G'raha's head, Feo Ul flew down to where Spica still lay prone and pulled at their cheeks, stretching them comically. Laughter bubbled up from the kit. Further merriment ensued, the pair entertaining themselves while the old diaper was set aside and a new bottle prepared. The crystal allowed G'raha to surveil them as intended, a very parental warmth lightening his mood watching the headstrong pixie also fall victim to Spica's charm.

Feeding time brought a reluctant end to their bonding. This time, as Spica ear wiggled down the formula Feo Ul hung by their side. "Are you also appreciating your gift?" There was no accusation in G'raha's inquiry, only curiosity.

Silence. Not even an acknowledgement Feo Ul had heard him. _That's all the answer I need then - it looks as though their 'gift' might be backfiring._ G'raha kept up appearances to not distract his two very intent companions.

[Reminder: Meeting at the Crystalline Mean in thirty minutes.]

The warning startled the color out of G'raha's face - being so enamored himself he had forgotten about his other obligations for the day. "I have a meeting I must attend shortly."

That brought on a reaction: disappointment. Feo Ul sagged in mid-air. "I suppose you must tend your garden from time to time. You will come right back to play with us though, won't you?"

"I-" G'raha's voice faltered. He couldn't leave Spica with Feo Ul for hours, not because he thought the pixie neglectful, but because their diminutive size would make it impossible to care for Spica's basic needs. "I will be bringing Spica with me. You can come if you like, but I am afraid you may find the topic for discussion much too dry."

"Dry? _Dry_?" They repeated as if G'raha had asked them to grow a second head. "You are inviting me, your best friend in this entire world, to watch you plant and tend and prune your precious flowers? I, the most beautiful and resourceful of all pixies, would be full glad to take part in your gentle watering."

The gardening allusions were really starting to get under G'raha's skin, crystal and all. _I am no caretaker by choice...would that I could burn this fetid field I have been forced to plow sooner rather than later._

G'raha collected himself and bowed to Feo Ul. "My apologies. Now to...err..."

An unforeseen dilemma stared at G'raha with trusting pink eyes. How was he supposed to wield both his staff and his charge? Not that carrying the kit alongside the symbol of his station would pose an issue as a matter of strength - before merging with the Crystal Tower his martial training had him plenty strong, and after the aether only served to strengthen him further. But he didn't feel carrying Spica under his arm as a melon was in anyone's best interest.

Then his clothing came to mind. Confidently he conjured another item to the awe of his audience, the cloth sling in fabrics made to match the Crystal Exarch's robes appearing in his hands. "Here we go."

"Perfect, perfect!" Cheered Feo Ul, Spica giggling in similar sentiment while G'raha carefully wrapped them in the sling and hung it securely from his neck. Adding a touch of magic ensured the arrangement would hold no matter the activity. "Off we go then!" The pixie cast their glamour and took their place in G'raha's hair.

Spica began wailing. Taken aback G'raha tried to soothe them to no avail. "What could be the matter?" He asked himself aloud. "Perhaps-" His passenger reappeared, and the crying stopped.

"Huh..." They hummed simultaneously. Feo Ul waited a few seconds, Spica remaining calm all the while, then disappeared again to the tune of resumed crying.

The weight of parenthood suddenly pulled on G'raha's neck. "We are best friends, aren't we Feo Ul?"

\--

Minutes later the Crystal Exarch confidently strode across the Exedra. In his right hand he bore an ornate staff model modeled after those of the Allagan scholar-kings of his distant home - a symbol of knowledge, and of the power he commanded both through the Crystal Tower and his presence. And just as symbolically, around his neck he bore a single Viis kit, lovingly wrapped tight to his chest, an unmoving, unblinking pink and orange form tucked in alongside them.

"S-sir Exarch!" A Galdjent man passing by stopped in his tracks at the sight of the kit. His formerly drawn face eased upon observing their happiness, but his eyes widened further at G'raha's other charge. "I never knew you had a child! And is this toy modeled after a...pixie?"

G'raha tried to stop him and failed. The man reached out, taking the 'toy' by the face and pinching its cheeks. "It feels so real! My son would love one of these."

"I will have to talk another time I am afraid." Panicking, G'raha cut the conversation short and scuttled away. He pat Feo Ul as an apology, putting the frozen smile of Spica's guardian back on their face. "I need only arrive at the aetheryte and-"

Gasps rang out from the small crowd of people who inherently gathered around the city's transportation crystals at G'raha's approach. They collectively began fawning over Spica, then the lifelike pixie accompanying them. G'raha placated the admirers, and the once more recurring reminder about his work, as quickly as possible for all their sakes lest Feo Ul express their displeasure at being manhandled. But as Spica continued to bask in the attention G'raha cracked a smile in anticipation of the upcoming chaos, today and in the future.


	18. Étoile - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But something far more pressing would come to weigh on him. In years that felt like minutes Spica turned twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. For Viis those were typically important years around which their young would begin towards adulthood, declaring their gender and assuming the appropriate mantle as such. Spica, however, had done no such thing, and their mentors began to worry. G'raha heard their concerns as Spica grew older without any signs, yet dismissed them as casually as a leader could.
> 
> For in his heart he was rather glad of it all, except perhaps the part where they were growing taller than him every day.

As a young man hungry for knowledge and bearing the burden of an entire civilization's legacy on his shoulders, parenthood had barely crossed G'raha's mind. The Allagan blood in his line had waned so far it was highly unlikely he could pass it on to kittens of his own, leaving his scholarly appetite as the best means to see that legacy fulfilled.

And like so much in the scholar's life, fate had seen him down an unlikely path. Spica's well-being gradually became G'raha's own became as the rambunctious Viis kit grew healthy and strong under his care. In their early years the entire Crystarium came to look forward to the sight of their Crystal Exarch carrying his adopted child around his neck in some fashion, a well-loved pixie toy always within reach to pacify them during important affairs.

When not on business, however, G'raha let Spica run wild, once they were capable. In what felt as though it were days they were no longer portable, and thus more in need of a sitter when he was occupied. The resident Viis of the Crystarium became some of G'raha's closest acquaintances, many of them overjoyed to take turns watching Spica. As he had hoped they taught the kit their people's ways, though they always seemed more drawn to the growing culture of their new home. It was no Rak'tika, but Spica flying through the sparse Crystarium trees to pick fruit, steal naps, or attempt to poorly ambush their adopted parent evolved into the pair's new normal.

At home they traded the image of parent and child for that of co-conspirators. G'raha was not about to relinquish his sanctuary or ruin his careful planning to care for Spica, instead teaching them early on how his appearance, Feo Ul's presence, and the inner workings of Syrcus Tower were all secrets they needed to guard with their life. Fortunately childish pride and possessiveness made this a simple task - sometimes G'raha returned home with them after school and found himself regaled by proud tales of how Spica had steadfastly refused to succumb to vigorous questioning by their peers about the nature of their adopted parent.

\--

But there was one area the rest of the world did hold sway. The day drew to a close - Spica had been picked up from school by G'raha and a hidden Feo Ul (Spica was 'too old to be seen outside with plushies!' now at seven years, though they suspiciously declined removing them from their room), and quietly completed their homework at the dinner table with pixie assistance. At the stove the evening meal came together, G'raha having fully adapted to the First's ingredients and his altered sense of taste after years of failed meals, including a birthday cake for Spica whose appearance and odor he tried very hard to forget about. Food was a tried and true way to nurture bonds, between himself and Spica more than most, adding an extra sting when he watched them try to choke back a vile creation to not hurt his feelings.

He checked his work, tasting the mutton stew made with less meat than he would have liked due to the continued war the Crystarium waged not with sin eaters, but food shortages, and finding it up to his standards ladled out a healthy serving for Spica plus smaller ones for himself and Feo Ul, bringing it all to the table. "Here you are."

"Ah!" Spica carefully sat their work aside to accommodate the piping hot ceramic. Along with Feo Ul they took spoon in hand, blowing off a heaping serving as G'raha sat beside them. "Thank you grandpa!"

Every thought in G'raha's mind deleted itself. Behind their utensil Feo Ul struggled to keep a straight face, eventually opting for shoving it full of potatoes as cover. "G-grandpa...?" G'raha tried to ask without sounding accusatory. As the years continued to drag on he grew more and more irritated by anything that marked the passage of time - the slow crawl of crystal across his skin was already too much. "Why the sudden change? Only this morning I was 'papa'."

"Because! At school today we learned that the Crystal Tower has been here almost fifty years, and since you came with it you're that old too, right?" Spica shoveled their cooled off portion into their mouth, chewed, swallowed, then scooped up another eagerly. "So that would make you old enough to be my grandpa! All my classmates say you act like one too!"

Upon receiving no reaction Spica's right ear flopped down sadly, however, ripping a piece of G'raha's heart out with it. Feo Ul slowed as the kit cast a forlorn look upward. "You don't like it? None of the other children have grandparents so...I thought it would be special. I'm sorry."

They went back to eating quietly, all traces of their enthusiasm thoroughly defeated. Though Spica was young they and their adopted parent didn't argue much, and G'raha had never found a reason to not support them until now.

Being the Crystarium's leader he always stood in the deep end of the gossip pool, making him well aware of his grandfatherly reputation among its citizens. For all that he grinned and bore it, the abysmally sluggish view in the mirror taunting him in his mind's eye whenever he heard it used, the title was always spoken with affection. 

"Spica." G'raha called them softly, taking their free left hand in his right. Dodging the veritable barrage of eye daggers from Feo Ul he turned a warm gaze onto his well-meaning charge. "If that is what you wish then, I will not complain."

"Really?!" They chimed in unison.

He couldn't help but grin. _Coming from them it shouldn't be unbearable...I hope._

The meal resumed, tiny fingers clinging tightly to his. Their ears returned to their upright and happy state, Spica polished off their food between curious glances up at G'raha from beneath their bangs. "Grandpa?" They finally asked.

Though what they called him now was different, G'raha knew exactly what was coming but played along as always. "Spica."

"Grandpa?"

"Spica."

"Gr-a-nd-pa!" They chimed in a sing-song voice.

G'raha's bowl emptied courtesy of Feo Ul, who also knew the game. Their head bounced back and forth between the two humans, their winged form wound up in anticipation. "Yes, Sp-i-ca?"

In a flurry of giggling Spica launched themselves at his lap as he pulled them over, Feo Ul diving in at the same time. They shared a group hug, one of many thanks to Spica's ritual started when they were younger, holding each other tightly in a show of affection not uncommon for Viis and Mystel alike.

As was also part of their unspoken agreement, only Spica or an emergency could bring the moment to an end. Not that G'raha ever wanted it to - he hadn't known how truly starved he was for any kind of physical affection until the first time he'd gotten caught up in a tiny, impromptu hug session years ago - but Spica eventually squirmed free to sit facing the table still in G'raha's lap. They 'cleared' the table, pushing all three bowls off to the side, and reached for their homework. "Now help so you can tell me a story!"

"Are you sure you want a grandpa helping you? I might be so old I have forgotten what to do." Retrieving the books and papers came accompanied by a playful tease.

"Wha??" Light pink saucers gone wide with disbelief startled him. "But, you're the smartest person I know!"

Feo Ul rescued G'raha from his shock by stealing Spica's pencil. "Not smarter than the smartest pixie in Il Mheg!"

They flew up to his shoulder, handing G'raha the implement with a cherubic smile that promised the rest of the night would be full of mischief. "But perhaps, just this once, I can let a mortal show me they know what they're doing. Go on!"

\--

As the years went on Spica only grew more willful and adventurous. Early on G'raha forbade them from traveling outside the Crystarium walls, a rule Spica begrudgingly accepted given the constant threat posed by sin eaters. He prohibited their Viis tutors from talking about their culture's martial aspects, and hid the satchel containing their parents' weapons deep in their closet rather than tell Spica of it as he had originally planned.

Once they had seen all there was to the city then, the only remaining outlet was the Crystal Tower itself. It didn't take a scholar to know there was far more to their home than the rooms G'raha had claimed before travelling to the First. But time and again he refused to let Spica go further than the single hallway.

And thus their secret excursions began. Aided by Feo Ul they began sneaking out after G'raha saw them to bed. Unfortunately for him, the Allagans hadn't taken into account pixie magic when setting up the Tower's internal sensors, allowing Spica to go unnoticed the same way Feo Ul had before they revealed themselves.

The day the pair eventually struck out too far and became lost was one of the worst of G'raha's life. Knocking on Spica's door to wake them for school only to find their room empty sent him into a cold panic, hands trembling as calls around the Crystarium yielded no sightings of the ten-year old. Combing Syrcus Tower's access logs yielded naught of use either, but right before he began a room by room search Feo Ul appeared before him, able to send themselves to any place they had already traveled to once, to explain. Together they retraced Spica's steps and found them huddled in the corner of a small, private library clutching a book that could have only been meant for G'raha to read them.

Childhood memories of his own disobedient adventures emulating the heroes who occupied the pages of his favorite books stayed G'raha's hand in punishing them...slightly. Once Spica's two-week-long grounding ended they were presented with a proposition - as long as they promised never to venture into the depths of Syrcus Tower, G'raha would grant them full access to its upper levels. A grand hug sealed the deal, as did several pats to the head of hair G'raha couldn't bear to see a single strand of disturbed.

\--

Now fully enabled, traversing the labyrinthine halls became Spica's favorite pastime. Over the years they acquired a passing understanding of Allagan, enough to pick books to bring back and identify what the various decadent rooms had been used for in the past. In a way their wonderment made G'raha jealous - he fondly recalled his own awe upon first making the same journeys, some alongside Drisette, and wished he could feel anything but resentment towards what now bound him.

But something far more pressing would come to weigh on him. In years that felt like minutes Spica turned twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. For Viis those were typically important years around which their young would begin towards adulthood, declaring their gender and assuming the appropriate mantle as such. Spica, however, had done no such thing, and their mentors began to worry. G'raha heard their concerns as Spica grew older without any signs, yet dismissed them as casually as a leader could.

For in his heart he was rather glad of it all, except perhaps the part where they were growing taller than him every day.

On their fifteenth nameday, rather than their usual celebration of having a cake made by G'raha and decorated by Feo Ul in the manner only they could bring, Spica issued sealed invitations to both their guardians with strict orders not to open them until that afternoon. They then scampered off, and while G'raha could have checked for them in Syrcus Tower where he was sure his charge made preparations, he wasn't about to ruin their surprise.

Feo Ul held their invitation for the entire day, small hands leaving creases in the extremely fancy foil envelope it came wrapped in. "If I have to wait any longer I'll simply pop!" They declared at lunchtime. To avoid losing their grip they'd petitioned G'raha for a sizeable apple on a plate, from which they hovered in front of taking bites. "What ever could your wonderful gift have planned for us?"

"I honestly could not say. To give _us_ the gifts on their nameday…I suppose they truly are growing older." Though the sentiment was one G'raha hated thinking about, today was more about Spica than his comfort.

Fortunately they didn't have to wait much longer. Once fourteen hundred hours arrived G'raha carefully opened his envelope, withholding judgment on how gold bits flew through the air beside him. "'Come to the Final Curtain at sixteen hundred.' I wonder what-"

"NOW?! Here I come!"

"Hey!" G'raha watched Feo Ul disappear, leaving only their instructions behind. "'Meet me at the Final Curtain as soon as you read this.' What _are_ you planning Spica?"

The Final Curtain was the last room before the throne high atop Syrcus Tower. R'yhuven had reported fighting Amon, one of Emperor Xande's generals, there during his excursion, but records from the Tower's early days described it as a private theater used by the royal family for centuries. It had been the height of an artist's career to be summoned to perform in the fanciful chamber during the Allagan Empire - these days, Spica used it to read when they wanted some time away from their guardians as teenagers were inclined to need. G'raha himself had spent countless hours reclined in trees to escape his Sharlayan benefactors, gladly giving Spica the space.

At exactly sixteen hundred hours G'raha teleported to the theater. Darkness greeted him, and he spun around checking his surroundings for signs of danger.

"Ready Feo Ul?"

Spica's voice reassured him. Dropping his guard G'raha waited patiently, but more curiously than he had felt in some time. Giddy, even, at what his adopted child had thought up.

"Of course I am! And - poof!"

Pixie magic surrounded G'raha. Normally he negated Feo Ul's random attempts to test his abilities by taking him by surprise, but today he allowed it, watching the aether loosely spiral up his body from his feet.

A spotlight turned on overhead, revealing Spica caught in a similar effect next to him, and with a small fanfare another spotlight shone down on a nearby mirror, Feo Ul's magic resolving on the two of them in a shower of color and quiet tinkling.

G'raha didn't know the figure reflected back at him. For the first time in decades his Allagan-gifted body wore something other than the Crystal Exarch's robes. Draped in scarves, an elaborate grey tunic accented in reds and dark blues, and dark travelling pants, the outfit could only be an interpretation of that of his favorite hero from Allagan tales. As a young child his father had gifted him a random book featuring the hero in what they soon realized was a series, and his parents would search high and low for more even after G'raha moved to Sharlayan. Syrcus Tower's libraries held the complete twenty volumes, all of which he had read to Spica either as a way to soothe them on restless nights high up on balconies as an infant, and to spark their imagination when they grew older.

_"What are you waiting for Raha? Do you need me to bring you more cake before you'll budge? Didn't you get dressed to go on an adventure with me?"_

The person G'raha wanted to see more than life itself beckoned to him from within the glass, sweet lips teasingly parted as one hand extended lovingly. The whole world stretched out behind him - untainted, limitless, holding its breath, waiting for G'raha to take the invitation.

Oh, of course he would, he had waited so long for R'yhuven to ask! All G'raha had to do was grasp his hand and he could go, he could-

_Clink._

Crystal.

Light played along the multifaceted prison entrapping G'raha's right arm, painfully dragging him back to reality, splayed fingers pressed to the unforgiving glass of yet another mirror that taunted and betrayed him. All that remained on its surface now was an imposter of a man who once existed dressed as an imposter of a man who had never existed. The cruelty of it put a smile on his eternally youthful face, emphasizing the jagged line of crystallized skin marring his cheek in an ever-visible reminder of his folly.

"Grandfather!" Spica bounced over to him, Feo Ul sitting between their ears. The reflections joining in served to fully dispel G'raha's fantasy. "Do you like it? I've never seen you wear anything but your usual attire, so I thought you might like a change before we left."

Slowly, G'raha closed his eyes, leaving the smile plastered on. "Where are we going?"

The cloth of Spica's outfit, particularly a bright red scarf, swished behind him in a telltale sign the Viis shifted from foot to foot nervously. "I, umm...wanted to see Lakeland? To go on an adventure, just like in the books."

This again. If stubbornness was contagious Spica had surely caught it from their adopted parent. Using the precious stories they'd shared, reaching out to G'raha using the language built up between them - they would have been joyfully obliged for any other venture.

But not this one. This was too much. "I cannot."

"Not even a little? Just one time?"

"I...can't."

Their surprised intake of breath coaxed G'raha out of his brooding. Disappointment colored Spica's reflection, but so did a reluctant understanding. All G'raha hoped was they wouldn't ask him to explain - the denial applied to a long list of secrets he held close, and he didn't have the strength to test which of his desire to keep them or his love for his child ran deeper.

"That's alright. Seeing you dressed up was the gift I truly wanted." A lie - G'raha knew Spica too well, and Feo Ul's trademark glare came close to cutting the glass. "May I ask for something else then since it's my nameday?"

G'raha nodded and meant it. A firm hand full of undiminished intent landed on his shoulder. "When you can, promise me you'll wear this."

"Without a doubt." He could at least admire the effort they'd put into the ensemble. Yellow tassels fluttered as G'raha turned back and forth, using the mirror for its intended purpose. "I do very much enjoy the way it looks." _Just not on me, not like this._

"Good! Then!"

Spica bowed dramatically. The room descended back into darkness, but this time they guided G'raha towards the theater's seating and had him sit while they did the same. When the lights came back the stage was decorated to loosely resemble Il Mheg and full of stuffed animals. Feo Ul sat atop a fake tree merrily kicking their legs. "Today you will hear the tale of how the strongest pixie alive, your beautiful friend, me, saved a flock of the fluffiest sheep from the jaws of hungry wolves!"

"I asked Feo Ul if they would put on a play for us, since you're always the storyteller though they love to talk about themselves." Spica half whispered, half giggled to G'raha. They gave his right hand a fond squeeze before staring forward.

Part of G'raha relaxed knowing Spica had anticipated his rejection, but he had a lingering fear this wasn't the last he would hear of it. Still, he squeezed back, glad as always there was one person in the world who didn't see his features as abnormal. "You truly are kind, being the gift-giver for your celebration. Happy nameday Spica."

\--

As the months wound towards Spica's sixteenth nameday G'raha's fear slowly began crushing him. Though they didn't let their concerns reach Spica's ears, the Viis of the Crystarium, now backed by Chessamile, constantly expressed their concerns over how the young Viis seemed disinclined to move into the next phase of their life. It was a struggle to not snap at the deluge of speculation as to why, not only because he still didn't care for it to happen, but because the conversations inevitably turned to questioning if being raised outside their race was a significant factor. Purely coincidentally, after said conversations G'raha's head often felt a little lighter, and those involved often found their pantries in disarray.

It was more stress he didn't need as his charge pulled further and further away from him, however. Remembering his own stubborn streak multiplying to an obnoxious level during his youth G'raha tried to dismiss Spica's behavior. But as their exchanged pleasantries grew terse and their solitary ventures constant, unease gnawed at the edges of G'raha's thoughts to where even Feo Ul seemed dimmer in his presence. The sin eaters who dared attack the Crystarium found the Crystal Exarch's hand much heavier than usual.

The tension escalated until, yet again, Spica turned up missing. This time it was for dinner - though Spica had taken up eating in their room, the trio still always spent the time G'raha prepared their meals together. He waited a half hour for them to appear, handing Feo Ul, who was no longer welcome on Spica's outings, a roll to snack on in the meanwhile. When exactly thirty minutes passed G'raha furiously stomped his way to Spica's room and knocked on the door.

It easily swung open. _Am I so angry I can't control my strength?_ He sighed, frustrated with himself. _I can't go on like this…I…!_

Though the room sat dark and empty, in the faint light from the door G'raha spied a memory he hoped would never trouble him again - the bag holding Spica's parents' belongings, haphazardly strewn in the middle of the floor instead of buried deep in the closet. "No..."

Rushing over, he checked the bag's contents. His heart dropped into his stomach immediately - the formerly overfull sack lacked a distinct shape.

Spica had left with the chakrams.

"NOOOO!!"

Feo Ul appeared before him in a panic. "What's happened??"

"They're gone…" G'raha wailed. "They've taken a weapon and gone!"

"Grrrr..."

_Smack!_

Today was clearly a day for repeating painful memories. Reeling from the blow to his nose G'raha backed away from Feo Ul, his worries mildly diminished by the sheer _fury_ on the pixie's face. "Perhaps you have forgotten as you mortals tend to, but I recall telling you to _take care of your gift_!! What a terrible friend you are to treat something so precious this way!"

"I will not hesitate to use everything at my disposal to find them this time." Fists clenched, the scrape of crystal against crystal combining with the throbbing pain in his face to help him focus, G'raha checked Syrcus Tower's access logs and found no record of doors being opened. "They are not within the Tower - I doubt the Guard would have let Spica leave out the front gate, but they may have seen them around the Crystarium."

His inquiries with the Crystarium Guard turned up short as well, however. The trench around the base of Syrcus Tower ensured the main entryway was the only way out by foot, sending G'raha to the Amaro Launch to check their records and their stables in search of rented or stolen transportation. Coming up empty handed yet again sent the Exarch and his still angry companion rushing back to the doors of the Crystal Tower. G'raha steeled himself for losing more of his body to fuel a Norvrandt-wide scan for Spica in a desperate last-ditch effort.

"Wait." An odd breeze, likely imperceptible by anyone else, blew across G'raha's skin. The fusion of crystal to flesh made for heightened sensitivity where they met, and it was there the gently moving, aether-heavy air tickled him. "Something is amiss here. Perhaps…"

He approached the wall directly across from the two large doors. Once their work was completed the Ironworks and G'raha sealed the lower levels of Syrcus Tower to keep saboteurs out, and to keep the various nightmarish Allagan experiments they had to trap while they worked _in_. Crash landing the Crystal Tower on the First had broken part of the seal and loosed an unfortunate amount of creatures upon Norvrandt, but G'raha had made absolutely sure it was resealed after taking in refugees so long ago. _If any air is coming from here it can only mean one thing._

"Feo Ul, can you check this wall for cracks with your magic?"

They looked ready to tell him 'no'. Wanting to honor a request from their friend, regardless of being on bad terms at the moment, won in the end, and they waved a reluctant hand over the engraved stone. Magic settled into the depressions of Allagan script, as well as the square outline of a single tile in the corner. "What's that?"

There was no time for panicking now. G'raha rushed over, grabbing the heavy stone and ripping it free in a single motion. The rock cracked and crumbled beneath his full strength, unfettered in the face of what G'raha now knew he faced. "A way into the basement."

Unstable aether poured out of the exposure. It posed no problem to humans, but G'raha moved to catch Feo Ul as they limply fell from the air. "Do not worry my friend. I swear on my life I will do as you asked."

"You'd better…" Complaining weakly, the pixie struggled to sit upright. "Or else I will _never_ forgive you." They coughed.

G'raha gave Feo Ul a parting nod before sending them to his chambers. Now fully alone for the first time in a while, he drew in a deep breath, pushed up his sleeves, and crawled through the newly-revealed passage hoping he wasn't too late.


End file.
